A Hidden History
by momentsofmadness
Summary: A shadow rises in the East, and as it silently swallows those lands, the West remains naggingly unaware. Until things worsen and two elves who had found safety within Rhûn are forced back to the west, to the place long lost to them as home. Or the one where Erestor wasn't always the collected advisor of Imladris, nor did he always live on this side of the Misty Mountains.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello lovely readers! This is story that has been banging around my head for a while, one that I have deliberated sharing or not, but have finally decided that I might as well. Please forgive my mistakes/inconsistencies etc. I'm writing for fun, and though I want to try and be accurate, considering I have chosen a character with so little (basically no) canonical history, that is kind of a moot point. Essentially, this is just what my mind has supplied as a possible origin for the mysterious character of Erestor, with appearances from many other well-recognized characters. Please enjoy, review and give me feedback! As always, enjoy the read, I hope you enjoy.**

 **This story takes place somewhere around The Second Age, before the fall of Eregion.**

* * *

Erestor wandered cautiously through the unknown forest, letting the gentle voices of the trees wash over him as his eyes scanned the forest for any sign of the one he searched for. As charming as the trees were, the elf could not and would not allow himself to become distracted by them, knowing all too well that he was at a disadvantage in these unfamiliar lands.

The trail he was following was faint, barely even present in some places, but he was stubborn and tracking was something he had always excelled at. So he doggedly picked his way through the woods and thick underbrush, feeling the ebb of life through the happily humming woods.

 _Hello strange little elf,_ came the voices of the trees, _do stop and talk to us._

A small smile curled at the elf's lips, but he just muttered an apology, unable to stop his pursuit in fear of having already given his quarry too large a head start. _I'll be back,_ he soothed the trees, _I'll be back and I'll bring my brother too, so you'll have two elves to speak to, rather than just one._ The trees delighted at that, and the dark-haired elf smirked fully this time, knowing just how much his brother would hate him for forcing him to listen to the trees. Not that the other elf held anything against the woods, he just simply did not have the patience to endure their languid conversation and soft-spoken commenting.

At the thoughts of his brother, the elf grew serious again, thinking back to their last argument, to the horrid things that had been said and angry accusations that had led them to this point. Perhaps they both could have used more patience then, rather than the hasty and heated words with which they had fought.

Thinking back to it, not everything that had happened even added up, and it was only in hindsight that the elf could see where he had been in the wrong, where he had been too angry to try and understand Eludor's sign of the argument. He could have done better, he should have, but hindsight was a useless thing, and though he berated himself, the elf stuffed down his ire, more driven by his earlier failure to right the things that had gone wrong.

He paused momentarily, crouching to inspect the subtleties in the fox trails that scampered across the ground. Erestor would have to remind his _dearest_ _brother_ , that animals, least of all, foxes, did not leave such patterned and precise footprints. Shaking his head and standing from his crouch, the elf continued on his chosen path, more convinced than ever that the fool was actively avoiding and misdirecting him. But it the reason as to _why_ that still remained a mystery.

Worry settled in his stomach, heavy as a stone as the dark-haired elf thought to how badly things had been as of late. He knew it went beyond the extent of two angry elves arguing and fighting like children. It ranged from the air between himself and Eludor, to the tension that has seeped into the region over the last fews years. He had been increasingly uneasy lately as he witnessed more and more people fight over utter nonsense, strangers draw weapons against each other, and the old tribes of Rhûn suddenly finding anger in the differences they had long put to rest.

As much as Erestor had tried to ignore the glaring troubles, he could no longer simply push aside the mounting uneasiness which all those living in the East felt. The proud but amicable people, once meeting casually and trading freely, now found all reasons for paranoia, unwilling to barter or even listen to one another in fear of hearing unfavorable news or igniting more arguments.

Nothing brought more despair to the elf than the image of the desolate trading junctions, empty fields and spaces sparsely littered with the few tents that remained. The posts had been bustling with trade for as long as he could remember, and it saddened Erestor deeply to see them fading into memory so quickly. If there was anything he could do to stop it, he would do it in a heartbeat, but that all rested on his ability to find Eludor and slap some sense into him.

 _What is wrong, strange elf?_ the worry from the trees broke through his thoughts, and he shook his head. These trees, so different from the ones beyond the Misty Mountains, were all so eager to help and let their melodious voices flow like the breeze. They were alert and awake, almost bursting with energy in comparison to the slowed and tired voices of those ancient trees of the east. These young woods teased lightly and let their thoughts flit from one thing to another, so odd from the woods in Rhûn, where the tree-voices were hoarser and their interactions sluggish and critical in the way of the extremely weary.

 _So much is wrong, friends,_ he whispered as he stopped in front of a large tree, _perhaps you can help me?_

The trees delighted, swaying their branches happily and whispering how they may be of service as the elf put a hand to the tree's trunk. _Have you seen another elf come this way? Dark hair, wearing the same colors as I?_ He should have thought to ask the trees earlier, but his thoughts were so consuming, he had acted more on instinct than anything.

The trees ruffled their leaves, _yes, yes, another strange elf came this way!_ They offered little else, but simple was the way of trees, so the dark-haired elf smiled, gently pushing them for more, _which way did he go?_ The wood underneath his hand hummed with life and the forest grew louder with coalescing whispers, _west, west!_ they echoed, _heading to the kingdom, he was._

 _Really?_ it shouldn't have been such a surprise as it was, but he had heard his brother disregard the elven kingdom with such bitterness for so long, he almost expected him to avoid it at all costs. So, he was heading for Lindon after all?

 _yes, yes, the kingdom, yes, to the Blue Mountains and beyond_ , the trees continued, _he spoke so little, but the lonely elf goes to see the king!_

Lonely indeed, thought Erestor, if he had been talking to the trees.

Belatedly he realized, _to see the king!?_ That was even more of a surprise, because since when did Eludor care to speak to the Noldor king?

There it was again, that sinking feeling that bubbled in the elf's chest, as whispers from his memory raced to the forefront of his mind. Rough whispers behind cupped hands and the tight-lipped, drawn faces among people as they filtered in and out of villages and junctions. The occasional news from the western lands had always intrigued Erestor, but he had not paid too much mind to the updates about the events there. He had been far more concerned recently with the festering implications of darkness within their own lands, traveling frequently from villages to traveling tribes to collect what information he could. Those trips had revealed the enormity of the fear that actually plagued the lands, and the extent with which it had spread. From the Iron Hills and Dor-winion to the far eastern shore of the Sea of Rhûn, there was an unnatural tension in the very earth that was manifesting in tangible ways now.

Erestor suppressed a shudder as a wave of alarm swept through him, the critical thoughts that had pestered him for months threatening to encroach on him now, when it would be most inconvenient. He just couldn't shake the feeling of discontent that had plagued him for long now, perhaps even since the blue men from across the western sea had arrived years ago.

The dark-haired elf patted the tree's trunk before moving in the direction they had indicated, his mind still reeling with more thoughts than he could process. What could possibly be driving Eludor to actually go to Lindon and seek out the king he had long since sneered at? It was not like the older elf was only ever bitter, but he had always had a harsh resentment of all things in the west, wanting ferociously to ignore and forget the fact he had ever lived there. The news of his departure for those very lands, had shocked and stunned Erestor thoroughly.

He thought back to the heated words he had shared with the wizards when he had learned of his brother's departure. Pallando had remained angrily silent towards both the elf and fellow istari, refusing to reveal what it was that had sent Eludor away. And, later, when the elf stormed away angry and confused, it was Alatar who had followed him and demanded adamantly that he go after his brother. As if he hadn't been fully prepared to do so already.

He had set off that very night, already behind with the hours, if not day, long head start the other elf had had. That had been well over a month ago, and the entire time the dark-haired elf felt he had been close yet decidedly behind his quarry. And now he felt like he was even more behind, given his delay in the mountains where many unsavory things still lurked about, and where he had to fight his way through a group of stone trolls that caught him off-guard. He had been so tired from his dogged pursuit, and had smacked right into a massive boulder that had not been there moments before. The sounds of the creatures shifting to surround him had made him quickly realize that it wasn't a boulder he had collided with, and that he was about to be in a world of trouble.

Thankfully, all traces of exhaustion had fled and the elf's speed saved him from that potentially lethal situation. Although the pursuit that ensued had forced him to back track a few times and find another way around the troll territory, he eluded the trolls at last, relatively unscathed and more aware of the need for caution. It had cost him the whole night, and had set him back tremendously, but after that encounter, he forced himself to rest, spending the whole morning on the high branches of a sturdy oak. But time was pressing, and something inside him was urging him to be quick, as if a there was a deadline he were fighting against, one he couldn't see, or discern, but one that drove him, regardless, to pick up his pace. With those thoughts, the elf took off at a run in the direction the trees lead him on, mindful of uplifted roots or low hanging branches.

Finding Eludor was proving to be a challenge, for the older elf had many more years of experience, and he had, after all, spent the first years of his life in the west. Yes, he had an advantage, but Erestor was nothing if not determined, and he this was one matter he was not willing to drop.

The friendly trees whispered to him as he darted past.

* * *

Glorfindel was not a happy elf. No, he was decidedly not happy at all, not at the moment, and not since this Eru-forsaken day had even started. The golden-haired elf tried to block out the needless prattle of his officers as they examined the scene of the crime, pinching the bridge of his nose against the headache that was threatening to develop. The balrog-slayer glared at the tenaciously happy trees that swayed around him, gleefully unaware of his sour mood. Or maybe, Glorfindel thought sardonically, they were aware of it and yet enjoyed throwing their mirth in his face.

There was unease beneath his anger, and he knew it had more to do with the unexplained events of the day than his own misfortunes. He never was one to linger on the negative, but today had been trying from the very beginning, and it was not being helped by his current predicament. It was bad enough that he had woken in the middle of the night because of nightmares of fire and ruin, and as exhausted as he was, he had refused to go back to sleep and risk slipping into scenes best left forgotten. On top of that rocky start, the elf had been fetched from his quarters some few hours later by a nervous looking healer's apprentice. The young elleth had apologized profusely before letting him know that his presence was needed immediately in the healing wards and leading him there herself.

Glorfindel had followed, quietly promising extra stable cleaning and paper work to whichever officers under his command had managed to get themselves into trouble this time. Yes, Glorfindel had been annoyed yet fully prepared to reprimand his underlings, but he had not been ready for what truly greeted him when he entered the healing rooms.

Taking up most of the beds and looking to be among varying states of injury and duress, were what had to have been half of the elves under his charge. Most had been bandaged up, a few lay unconscious, while others still clearly shaken, watched silent and wide-eyed as he entered. Scanning the room that was still bustling with confused energy, Glorfindel had sought out the elf he instinctively knew would be among the healers. Bent over a squirming officer, was none other than Elrond himself, speaking in a hushed but reassuring voice. Glorfindel had taken the scene in for a moment longer, before calling out in a low but stern voice, "Does anyone want to tell me, what on Arda happened here?"

The question had been met with averted gazes and low mutterings, the typical embarrassment that came often from too young and inexperienced officers. It was, unsurprisingly, Elrond who answered him, "Their patrol was attacked somewhere in the woods," the Peredhel had said, shaking his head, "too close to the city and even worse, no one got a good look at what happened."

This, Glorfindel found nearly unacceptable, "what do you mean, _no one saw_ ," his voice must have carried some edge in it, for some of his officers cringed and were even more unable to look at him. Elrond had shaken his head, "none of the officers brought in could tell what us happened," he had shaken his head, "it's the strangest thing, not a single one got a good look at who or what attacked them." The exasperation in the other's voice had been nearly tangible.

At that moment, one of the officers, the one Elrond had been trying to soothe, spoke up, "We couldn't see anything because not only was it dark, but it was like the very shadows moved against us!" the officer's eyes had been too wide and bright for Glorfindel's liking. "It came out of nowhe-" a stern shushing from Elrond got the shaken officer to calm down once again.

 _Shadows that moved?_ That was not a good sign, and the blond elf could felt a tickle of worry in his chest. Elrond had caught his gaze then, communicating all his worries with it. Still confused, the golden-haired warrior had been about to demand again, _what had happened_ , when a voice from behind him interrupted, "This is why we called you here so quickly," the deep voice of the king was deadly serious. "Captain Glorfindel, I know today was supposed to be a day of resting for you," the apology heavy in his voice, "but considering what has just transpired I feel it is necessary to send another patrol out, with you leading it, to investigate whatever it is that has found its way near our city."

Glorfindel full heartedly agreed with the king, but that did not mean he had not felt a degree of resentment for whatever evil decided to play its' hand on this day. His foul mood and creeping weariness had kept him silent for a few moments, as if he ever had the heart to deny a request from those he served, especially when Gil-Galad looked so earnestly worried and apologetic.

"Of course," he had nodded, "I will prepare some officers and leave as soon as possible."

That was how, a mere hour later, he and a few quickly rounded up officers had found themselves in the woods surrounding the city, looking for any sign of the perpetrators of the previous attack. Finding the site of the incident had been easy enough, but trying to discern any clue as to who or what may have been the cause, was another story. The part about the shadows that moved of their own accord, deeply troubled Glorfindel, bringing back memories of beast and creatures that he thought had fallen in the same age as he. Some of the other officers he had been graced with started whispering stories of magic and of dark beings, returning from the days of old much like a certain _elf_ of old had come ba-

Glorfindel groaned and closed his eyes against the morning light. He shook his head as he asked the Valar, why oh why had he been saddled with such young and impetuous officers, when he had been returned to Middle Earth for a supposedly greater purpose.

The sense of unease surged as an chill tickled the back of his neck, making him suddenly aware that someone, or some _thing_ , was watching them. The golden-haired warrior immediately quieted his patrol and whirled in the direction he felt the disturbance. Upon closer inspection, the trees were indeed acting strange, keeping oddly to themselves in the presence of so many elves, when they normally would be beckoning and whispering for attention. They nevertheless swayed their branches inconspicuously in the breeze, giving off an air of an almost unperceived _giddiness_.

It all could have almost been normal, just the playful antics of the friendly woods, but Glorfindel knew best that it was when all seemed well, that most things went south.

"The trees are acting strange," a small statured green elf spoke in a confused tone, suddenly at the balrog-slayer's elbow, "they're whispering about some _strange elf_ that has been speaking with them, but they will not answer my questions when I asked for more." That both confused and alerted the blond, because another elf would have no need to hide themselves when visiting the realm, unless of course, their intentions were no good.

Glorfindel turned his keen gaze towards the trees the other elf was looking in and scanned the branches, thoroughly combing through the foliage. Moments passed in eerie silence, when suddenly, there among the thick branches of the towering trees, he spotted a subtle flash against the leaves. In a blur, Glorfindel had his sword drawn, immediately alerting his officers to do the same. "Bring yourself forth!" his voice broke through the silence in the woods, and he watched keenly as movement came from the leaves. It was subtle, just like his first glimpse had been, something he would have missed if he hadn't been so focused. Nothing but silence greeted him, and Glorfindel indicated to his officers to slowly approach with him, flanking him as they neared the occupied tree.

"Whoever goes there," he started, keeping his voice steady and commanding, "be aware that you now stand within the land of Lindon, and are therefore obliged to present yourself to the King, or be forced to do so."

In the silence that followed, tension seeped in from the officers, and Glorfindel himself could sense the being in the trees holding still with apprehension. The quiet of the moment was broken when the figure took off, rushing through the branches with more speed than the blond elf anticipated.

The balrog-slayer took off after the figure with own surprising speed, hearing his officers' startled yells and rushed footfalls as they followed as well. The green elf that had alerted him to the other's presence was in the trees in a flash, with a cry of "Ech- hon dant-!"

The plea riled the trees and they effectively loosened their branches and allowed their precious 'strange elf' to be dropped to the ground. Despite their cooperation though, and judging from the sheer _excitement_ that the giggling trees were exuding, Glorfindel had a sneaking suspicion that they had purposefully allowed the elf a gentle fall that let them to easily continue their escape. The targeted elf was fast, faster on the ground than Glorfindel himself. Unacceptable, his mind supplied, and the blond urged his legs to push on faster, soon outpacing the officers that followed.

Keeping all his attention focused on following the quickly disappearing figure, Glorfindel pushed himself hard and fast through the trees, pursuing what he could only rationalize, was the culprit to this whole mess. The thought had just crossed the blond warrior's mind when the figure before him veered suddenly to the left and disappeared behind a thick tangle of bushes and trees. The warrior cursed as he skidded sharply in that direction, rushing through the thicket and stopping short when he saw nothing before him.

Impossible! he thought, where could that blasted elf have gone?

There should have been at least an indication of which direction the other elf had gone in, but in no direction that he turned his head, did he find a single trace, and the trees held their silence. Glorfindel sent a mighty glare in the direction of those inconspicuous branches, and felt the trill of silent laughter trickle down from them. The damned woods were laughing at him and they were without a doubt aiding the fleeing elf, who was probably dashing away through those horrid branches.

The ancient warrior frowned, refusing to acknowledge the irksome trees that called to him in honey-voiced distraction. He turned in a circle before stomping away in a particularly inviting direction, shocked at how he had been outdone by some random, mysterious wood elf who had apparently decided to make Lindon the target of their terror. He had gone but a few minutes in his chosen direction when, yet again, he felt the familiar chill at his back.

This time, the blond elf didn't react so suddenly, but continued forward, his back to the one watching him. At the same time, Glorfindel stretched out his senses, feeling out the presence of the other elf, who, although well concealed, stood out amongst the trees. The blond moved a few more paces before he bent down as if to examine the ground. He collected a decently sized rock and concealed it in his palm as he straightened, making a show of checking the woods before moving on. He walked on, no longer paying attention to where he was going but rather keeping his attention to the presence behind him. The blond elf made it a ways from the lurking one before he sensed movement from behind. In that instant Glorfindel whirled and launched his rock into the branches.

He was rewarded with a startled yelp and snapping sounds as the pegged elf tumbled out of the tree. The elf landed with a muffled curse and Glorfindel was upon the offending creature within seconds, "Stay down if you know what's good for you," he warned as he drew his sword. The elf on the ground froze halfway through pushing himself up, staring wildly at the blade now level with his face.

"Good," the blond elf started, "now that I have your attention, tell me- what is a wood elf doing terrorizing citizens of Lindon?" He watched as the other elf frowned, dark brows furrowing and eyes flashing from the sword to his face. The look the elf gave Glorfindel, almost made the tall warrior feel ridiculous for asking such a question.

"I'm not a wood elf."

It was Glorfindel's turn to frown, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. He shook his head, "That's not the important part," he forced himself to lower the sword, lest his already frayed nerves drive him to true violence, "what are you doing here?"

The elf blinked at him, eyes fixed on his, before shrugging, "I'm just looking for my brother." The tone indicated some try at nonchalance, but really? from his position from the ground, the elf had no right to act as such.

"Oh really?" Glorfindel gave the elf an exaggerated look, "so you wouldn't mind coming with me to report your presence to the king." Something flashed in the elf's face, his eyes darting away from Glorfindel's and then back. "Oh," he said, holding the warrior's gaze and slowly pushing himself to his feet. Glorfindel allowed this, giving the elf some semblance of a choice.

"Perhaps I should just leave," the elf said quickly, "no need to alert your king of my presence, I was not aware I was already in Lindon." That wouldn't do, there was no elf within these lands that was not aware of Lindon's borders. The ancient warrior raised a golden brow, "It is necessary, especially since _someone_ attacked a patrol this morning."

The elf gave him and incredulous look, "I had nothing to do with that."

Glorfindel looked into the elf's eyes, "But you are aware of the fact that it happened." It was obvious that the elf knew about the attack, no surprise in his countenance to indicate otherwise. The elf stared at him, "the trees here are quite chatty, they told me all about it."

The balrog-slayer took a step forward, "clearly, you're lying." The elf froze again, holding himself still at the tall warrior's approach "I'll ask again, what are you doing out here?" Glorfindel asked in a voice he knew commanded authority. The elf in front of him took an instinctive step back, his body going rigid. Something flashed across the elf's face before he quickly composed himself and he took on a cool blank look. The elf clenched his hands and raised his chin. "I told you, I'm looking for my brother." The tone was icy this time.

The blond stared at the other elf, carefully noting the half concealed hilt at his hip and the defensive stance he had subtly adopted. The elf stared right back, defiance playing across his features.

"What is your name?" Glorfindel demanded, in the same stern voice he had used before. The elf just stared at him silently, giving the slightest tilt of his head. The action reminding the balrog-slayer of the ravens that were often found on high walls and perches in Lindon; those beady-eyed, bothersome creatures that squawked at squawked at random, and watched in eerie silence at all other times.

Glorfindel crossed his arms and could have rolled his eyes at the other's prolonged quiet. "Silence," he drawled, "a great answer, and surely one that will pass well in front of the king's court." That earned him a cold glare and an even icier refusal to speak. The blond shook his head, he was not looking forward to having to explain today's events when he reported to the king later on. And even thinking about having to be present when the elf was questioned in court was enough to remind the blond of the headache he had been staving off. When he had told the king that he would investigate who or what had attacked his patrol squad, he was not aware that he was going to be dealing with such a impetuous imp of an elf, and not a horde of bandits or hostile orcs. Somehow, Glorfindel would almost have preferred the foul creatures of the dark lord, for at least those were straightforward and easy to take care of.

"Have you suddenly gone mute, or did my rock hit you harder than anticipated?"

That got him the twitch of a brow and the pursing of lips, but no other response. The golden-haired warrior huffed and dropped his arms to his sides. His dark mood from earlier certainly not helped by these events. He reigned in his temper, and tried a different approach.

"Well," he spoke through clenched teeth, "my name is Glorfindel," he gestured to himself, "now what's yours? It's only a courtesy for you to tell me now." There was a flicker of annoyance across the elf's face which then turned into a visible eye-roll.

"Well, Glorfindel," the elf started lowly, "my name is non-of your concern and I don't have time for your overbearing presence." With that the dark haired ellon spun on his heel and made for the trees.

Glorfindel stared for a moment, shocked at the blatant display of disrespect, before shaking himself and moving swiftly to bring himself to block the elf's path.

"Oh no, no, we're not done." He crowded into the other elf's space, forcing him to back track with a frustrated growl. Dark eyes cut up sharply towards the blond, "What is your problem?" he hissed.

Glorfindel glared back, " _my_ problem _?"_ the nerve of this elf!

"Well, since you asked so _kindly_ ," Glorfindel continued, "my problem is that I have been sent out here to deal with a disturbance in King Gil-Galad's land, and instead of finding any real issues, I find that it is you, an impertinent little elf that, judging from the looks of you, brings more trouble than he's worth." The blond felt himself bristle at each word, though kept a safe distance between himself and the other, not wanting to provoke a fight.

"I can assure you, Lord Glorfindel," the polite voice somehow managed to make the name and title sound like an insult, "I mean no harm to you or anyone else in this forest. I'm just looking for my brother, as I've told you." He held the golden elf's eyes, both as a way to convey his truth and a challenge to the other to not believe him. Glorfindel made sure to keep his hands clear of his sword, trying to display his intention to keep this interaction peaceful.

"As much as I would love to take your word for it," the smaller elf narrowed his eyes at the notable sarcasm, "it would hardly be prudent for me to do so. Plus, I gave my word to the king and his people that I would rid this forest of the trouble that plagues it."

The dark-haired elf's shoulders tensed, and Glorfindel watched as his face turn into an unhappy frown. The golden warrior was caught between petty triumph and exasperation, his control thrown out of sorts by the equally mercurial elf. The infuriating being glared heatedly at the taller elf, crossing his arms and raising a dark brow. Glorfindel swept his arm out, gesturing openly towards the elf,

"So, you can come willingly like the good elf you claim to be," Glorfindel tilted his head, trying to maintain some semblance of his famous patience, which was waning now at an alarming pace. "Or I'll have to find some other way to get you to come with me." He wasn't normally so curt, but Glorfindel was on edge and he just wanted to get this all over with.

The elf in question merely scoffed at the warrior's request, sending him a glare worthy of an orc.

"Why would I ever agree to that?"

Glorfindel grit his teeth, his agitation growing, "Well, let's see, you're a lone elf wandering around here, just 'looking for your brother,' you say, but," he emphasized the word, "you are armed and it is obvious by your persistent refusal to share your true intentions, that there is more to your story here." The flash of surprise in the other's eyes was confirmation enough, "Yes, I see that I am right. So do you care to tell me what you are really doing out here?" The elf's frown continued to deepen, his glare intensifying.

"Still refusing to cooperate?" Glorfindel continued agitatedly, "alright then, let me go on; I have a group of injured patrol officers that have told me something in these woods attacked them, something none of them could describe. And while I don't particularly think you could have done that," the dark eyes narrowed again, "I don't doubt it for a moment that you being here at the same time is merely a coincidence."

The elf in front of him inclined his head ever so slightly, "That is a hefty list, did you come up with all of those on your own?"

The golden warrior sighed, having known already that his words would have little affect. "You just couldn't make this easy, could you?" he spoke resignedly to himself.

The elf, clearly reading the meaning behind the words, shifted his weight, a precise and miniscule movement. But Glorfindel caught it, his keen eyes and senses far too honed to miss such a thing. He placed his hand back on the hilt of his sword, the movement not lost on the dark-haired elf, who kept his eyes firmly on the blond, "Easy for you or for me?"

Glorfindel felt the tension rise like a living thing. The forest suddenly felt colder, the trees stilling at the threat of a fight, all mirth leaving them in an instance. He shook his head, "listen, I'm not looking for a fight, I'm just trying to get to the bottom of what's been happening lately."

"I already told you, I have nothing to do with those things." The dark-haired elf spoke tersely, "I'm not going to Lindon and I'm certainly not speaking with your king."

Glorfindel bristled, a tense smile stretching his lips as he all but bared his teeth, "Fine then," he clenched his hands, "have it your way." With a sudden speed, he lunged at his opponent. The dark-haired elf darted out of the way, faster than Glorfindel had anticipated, but though the move was quick, it was not unexpected, and the seasoned warrior was ready. He stepped in the direction of the other elf's lunge.

Surprise flooded the golden warrior as he blocked a well aimed strike from his opponent and then another that came from a lower angle. This elf was much faster than he appeared, having drawn two long daggers in so short amount of time. Glorfindel was alarmed that he had only noticed the one weapon during his interaction with the elf, and the fact that the other had managed to draw both in such a quick moment did not bode well.

The elf twirled the blades and made to slash at Glorfindel again. The balrog-slayer deflected and swung his own sword, the metal arching through the air and forcing the other elf back. Seeing the glinting dark eyes spurred Glorfindel, and the golden-haired warrior lunged again, but the elf moved into the blow. He caught the blade with his own, stopping it abruptly and using the moment to plant a swift kick to Glorfindel's stomach. The blow sent the warrior back a few paces, but Glorfindel quickly found his footing and turned, anticipating his opponent's next attack and moving to meet it.

His sword rung as it slid against a steadily aimed dagger, light vibrations running through his arm. With a flick of his wrist and turn of his weapon, the balrog-slayer smirked as he felt the offending dagger fly from his opponent's hand.

Hearing a hissed curse, the blond moved quickly, pulling his arm back and this time managing to drive his fist solidly into the elf's stomach. The choked grunted was followed by an indignant yelp as Glorfindel lunged at the winded elf. Though he tried to spring away, the smaller elf was yanked backwards by a large hand twisted into the back of his tunic.

The balrog-slayer swiftly pulled the elf close, wrapping one arm around him, successfully pinning his arms to his sides while his other hand reached to pry the remaining dagger from his hand. "This could have gone easier," he said off-handedly, catching the wrist that held the weapon, having narrowly avoided a wild stab, "but you didn't want to behave."

"Let go!" the captured elf growled, twisting in the blond elf's hold, surprisingly strong, but still unable to break the hold. Glorfindel, for his part, was increasingly annoyed, "If you would just calm down-"

The elf in his hold suddenly stopped his squirming, slumping heavily against the restraining arm. The sudden change almost unbalanced the balrog-slayer, his mind a flurry of confusion, "wha-" but as quickly as the elf had gone limp, he sprung back, using the distraction and his captor's lapse to his advantage. He twisted his arms free, elbowed the Glorfindel in the face and lunged out of the loosened hold.

Surprise flooded his mind and pain flared in his cheek as the blond elf watched the dark-haired elf stagger away trying catch his breath. He glared at the ancient warrior distrustfully, backing up a few steps when Glorfindel made to move closer. The golden-haired warrior watched the elf warily, and he wondered briefly if it was even worth the hassle to try to restrain him again.

Watching as the elf's eyes flicked over his discarded weapons, Glorfindel was reminded at the danger that this combative elf could pose, if he had not already, to the patrolling elves and wandering citizens of Lindon. The returned warrior had made a vow to protect those he could, in any way he could, and that included dealing with wild, infuriating elves. With his strengthened resolve, Glorfindel raised his sword and charged at his quarry.

The elf's eyes widened at the sudden change but instead of springing away as the blond warrior had expected, the elf only seemed to brace himself, perhaps sensing that he would not make it out of reach in time-

Glorfindel's mind whirled and came to a sudden stop when in a flash, he found himself laid flat on his back, staring in disbelief at the dancing branches and clear sky directly above him. _What in the world!?_

He had no memory of falling, and he was fairly certain he had not lost consciousness and yet, there he was sprawled out on the forest floor. _How?_ The blond warrior swiftly got to his feet, scanning the clearing with a critical eye and realized with a mounting ire that the other elf was nowhere to be seen. Even the other's weapons had been scooped up and taken, no sign indicating where the other elf had taken off.

Glorfindel swore, the curse rolling off his tongue in Quenya as he turned around the clearing in search for a sign of where the elf had gone. The blond berated himself for underestimating him, he had always taught his junior officers to fight with their advantages, and he had often been used as practice when teaching how to defend against larger opponents. He was familiar with this move, and that made him all the more angry.

He swept the woods once more, but the trees were ever against him, their branches still in the wake of Glorfindel's glare. The elf shoved down his mounting ire and forced his keen eyes to pick out the most recently disturbed path. Trusting his instincts more than thought, the re-born warrior took off in that direction, hoping that his moment of inaction didn't give the other elf that much of a head-start.

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 **Ech- hon dant- let him fall - sindarin**

 **Not much in terms of an intro, but I found it incredibly hard to be happy with how any version of this first part. More to come, most likely with horribly inconsistent updates. Please bare with me! Again let me know what you think. I would explain myself, but I want to do that through the story, so if you have any really pressing questions, do ask.**

 **Alrighty, thanks for reading & review.**


	2. Chapter 2

Stupid, crazy, impatient elf, Erestor cursed himself as he darted through the forest, weaving between the trees he left in his wake. So much for patience and understanding, he frowned internally. He had not meant to get close enough to the other elves to reveal his presence, nor had he had any intentions to come into contact with them, least of all as violently as he did. But he had gotten too close, and in his anticipation to see what the other elves were discussing so critically, he had completely ignored the feeling in his stomach that told him to keep away.

Being discovered had startled him badly, and instead of acting rationally and heeding the other elf's order, he had turned tail and fled like guilty criminal. He could understand why the blond had refused to believe him when he declared his innocence in the day's events.

He should have kept his cool, he thought despairingly, talked things through with the other elf instead of lashing out the way he did. Had he not reacted purely out of fearful instinct, he probably would have found that the other elf had useful information that would help him in navigating these lands and the people who inhabit it.

Eludor had always berated him for being quick to anger and too abrasive with his words, finding that he often spoke before thinking through what it was that he was going to say and what consequences it could possibly bring.

 _You need to be more careful,_ the older elf would admonish, _more people would like you better if you weren't so callous and blunt._ Erestor had scoffed at him back then, stating rashly, _I don't need people to like me for false propriety._

At least it was true, what he had said to his brother then, and it remained true now: he would rather have people dislike him for his harsh honesty rather than keep up a pretense of polite relations. And yet, that didn't mean that perhaps some show of courtesy every now and then would make things easier for the hot-headed elf, such as in this situation, where he needed all the help he could get. Even if that help came in the form of infuriating elven warriors, who may or may not be the famed elf of a past age, reborn and recast into Middle Earth.

Erestor replayed his latest blunder in his head, going over what little information he had gleaned from the big, blond, brute. The other had mentioned the attack from this morning, of which he was already aware of, because contrary to the blond's belief, the trees _had_ told him about it. There was also the fact that some unknown creature had been lurking about, which was probably the _dark one_ the trees had mentioned to him in shuddering voices. And then there was the fact that Eludor was mixed in there somewhere, his hasty and obscure objective in Lindon doubtlessly tying in somehow to the recent disturbances in the realm.

The dark presence of the prowling creature was one that Erestor had been aware of for a few weeks, having caught on to the unease of the land and the thicker dark that veiled the nights since he'd crossed over the mountains. Just as he had been behind his brother the whole time, he was ever trailing the tail of some dark being, at times too close for comfort, but never crossing paths with it. It seemed that with each passing day, he got more and more questions, and strayed further from any answer that could possibly explain what has been happening.

It was only now, fleeing from the blond warrior that Erestor wished he had asked more questions rather than just disregarding the other elf's concerns. This was not the first time his anger and impatience had cost him valuable information, and again, the dark-haired elf cursed his lack of foresight. The other elf could have been a great resource, if Erestor had just played his cards right.

With a frustrated growl, he skid to a stop, clenching his fists at his sides as different scenarios ran through his head. Would he be able to get the blond to listen to him without smashing his head in? The look on the warrior's face when he had last lunged at him had been fierce, with a light in his eyes that had put Erestor on edge. No, really it had pushed the dark-haired elf off the edge and into reckless action. It had scared him. He had seen such ferocity before, and every time, it strained at something deep in his chest, and long buried in his mind.

Erestor didn't regret flipping the attacker onto his back, in fact it had been quite enjoyable to see the complete shock on the other's face- but he was more than certain that that course of action had earned him little favor in the other elf's eyes. Biting his bottom lip, Erestor decided it best to approach the other elf warily, keeping a safe distance from him, well out of reach, of course, and perhaps even out of sight for a while.

A gentle warning from the trees alerted him to the incoming presence of the elf in question. A silent sigh of reluctance was all he could muster before he scaled the nearest tree and concealed himself among the branches. Not long after settling in the thick foliage, a golden figure darted about underneath his hiding spot. The other elf stopped short, and even from his perch, Erestor could see that the blond was looking around steadily.

The dark-haired elf watched intently, noting that the other must have extremely keen senses, even for an elf. He was very high among the branches, and with the trees helpfully doing their best to conceal him, his presence would be difficult to discern. Erestor mulled over the elf's name, trying to rationalize the the shock of learning that this was _the_ Glorfindel of Gondolin, the famed balrog-slayer that had been brought back by the Valar for the sake of Middle-Earth.

Both Alatar and Pallando had spoken in terse and stunted voices when asked about the elf. What he had managed to wrestle out of the secretive Istari was that the blond was a great warrior and that his loyalty met no bounds, so dedicated he was to those he served.

Erestor never thought he'd encounter the elf, let alone be the target of his ire, and yet there he was. He sighed quietly, leaning his forehead against the rough bark of the tree had stopped in. This probably topped his list of poor consequences resulting from rash and misguided decisions.

The elf on the ground was moving again, not at the full run as before, but at the same pace he had adopted the first time Erestor had stalked him from the trees. Oh, this elf had good instincts indeed, but he was proving himself predictable. Of that, Erestor was thankful, and followed at a healthy distance, well out of range of any rocks that could be launched his way.

He had already decided he was going to approach the other elf, and try to straighten out the misunderstanding he had created. But he was at a loss as to how he was going to accomplish such a feat without angering the other further and without losing his own temper. The other elf would already be wary, and Erestor's own attitude towards high pressured situations would hardly be of any help in defusing tension.

Whichever way he was going to go about it, he had to confront the elf soon, as he could feel time begin to slip through his fingers again, and the sick urgency returning to gnaw at his insides. He watched as the famed Glorfindel continued at a cautious pace, soon coming to full stop to scan the woods and branches. The elf shifted and Erestor could tell he had his sword drawn and ready to use.

"I know you're up there," came the deep, commanding voice, "you may have the trees on your side but don't think I won't get you." The leaves bristled, and Erestor felt his heart hammer in his throat. Was this truly to be the only way that he was going to get any answers?

"Stop wasting my time!" the frustration was mounting in the golden warrior's voice, "if you want something, come down here and face me."

Just why did he have to cross paths with the only elf in Middle Earth that could take on a balrog and return to tell the tale. Too many thoughts raced through his mind, and none of them offered an easier solution. Erestor shook his head, and opened his mouth to get this over with,

"I don't suppose it's too late to introduce ourselves?" he had positioned himself a good distance above the other elf, so he had the perfect view of the golden head as it whipped upwards, the fierce gaze meeting his own in an instance.

"Why don't you come down here and we'll see." The growled words did little to reassure Erestor, who only watched critically from his perch. His heart hammered in his chest and hands clenched too tightly around the branch beneath him. It was irrational, he knew, seeing as he was far enough away that the other elf could not reach him even if he jumped. And yet, the unease rushed through him like a living thing.

"Why don't you put your sword away so we can speak like civilized elves." He was oddly pleased that his voice reflected none of his worry, coming out calm and steady. The balrog slayer glared at him, eyes narrowed heatedly.

"I wasn't the one who incited such violence in our encounter." the elf ground out, but he was already lowering his sword, though he kept a tight grip on the hilt. Some of the ice in Erestor's veins lessened as he frowned at the other, "You lunged at _me_."

Glorfindel shrugged, "you brought that on to yourself," he took a few steps back so he was no longer directly beneath the dark-haired elf, "I wasn't the first to draw a blade." Erestor sighed,

"I agree that I may have acted hastily," he said slowly, reluctantly, "though you left me little room for anything else." And with that he quietly descended from the tree so that he stood a good distance away from the balrog-slayer. He brushed some stray leaves from his tunic, using the moment to ensure the other wasn't about to rush at him, before speaking again, "I believe I owe you a name," he spoke quickly, not wanting to lose his nerve, "I am Erestor, and before you hurt yourself trying to figure it out, I come from the east- far east, way beyond the Misty Mountains."

Perhaps it wasn't the most polite conversation starter, nor the greatest way of getting on the other's good side, but it was all Erestor could manage at the moment. The other elf opened his mouth, but closed it quickly, blinking wildly before settling his features into a blank mask. He stared at Erestor for a moment, a long silence stretching before them that made the dark-haired elf ache to shift about in agitation. The stillness pressed in on him, grating on his senses as he strained to keep it together.

"Over those mountains?" the question was accompanied with the sound a sword sliding into its sheath, and Erestor barely suppressed a flinch. He eyed the other elf, watching for signs of impending attack. "Even further than the Greenwood forest?" He nodded and watched as blue eyes narrowed, raking over him critically before settling back on his face.

 _"_ If that is true, how is it that you find yourself here," The blond asked sharply, "You're a long way from the those lands, very far, might I say." Erestor nodded again, trying to ignore the disquiet he felt as he remembered how far from home he truly was.

"It's rather complicated," he swept his eyes through the forest before letting his gaze fall back to the blond elf, "I don't really know where to begin, but…" His eyes darted away and his brow furrowed, and all before the other could interject, he looked back to him again,

"Your name," dark eyes bore into blue intensely, "I'm assuming that you are _the_ Glorfindel of Gondolin, correct?"

That was probably not the direction that the other elf had expected the conversation to go in, but regardless, he nodded. Erestor continued, "Good, then I'm also assuming you're also familiar with the blue wizards?"

"Alatar and Pallando?" the other asked in surprise, he probably hadn't heard of the wizards since they had last been together on their shared voyage across the sea. Erestor nodded again, "I've known them since they arrived in the east, when they first came to Gathod." A blank stare was all he received and he had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes,

"Right, you probably aren't aware that any of lands in Rhûn actually have names." he scoffed, the almost sheepish flicker in the other's eyes confirming his accusation. It had always been said that those who lived in the west were uncaring for many things concerning the eastern lands, unless of course, it was the wines of Dor-winion. Erestor shook his head,

"Never mind, what you need to know is that and though the blue wizards have tried, it seems their mission is failing," the words felt callously heavy to his own ears, "and the reason I come to the west now is because _Pallando_ ," he didn't even try to mask the disdain in his voice, "has shared something with my brother that made him rush here, to Lindon and your King, without any thought or mention as to what was happening."

It was Glorfindel's turn to frown, "If he is coming to see the king, I see no reason to do so in secret," he crossed an arm over his stomach and rested his elbow upon its bracer, pressing his fingers to his chin in thought. Erestor looked at him sternly, "I know that, which is why I am concerned that he is doing so regardless." He restrained his urge to pace, holding himself so still it felt unnatural, "things have been strange across the lands lately, worse than it's ever been," he shook his head, "I don't know how to explain it, but it just feels wrong."

The other elf was watching him, and Erestor almost couldn't meet his gaze. "And all of this was enough to make both of you travel all the way beyond the Greenwood," the blond made a sweeping motion with his hand, "and find yourselves here in Lindon?" he crossed his arms over his chest, quirking a golden brow at him. Erestor felt his nails cut into his palms, "I had no intention of ending up here," he spoke lowly, patience wearing thin, "I was following my idiot brother to try and shake some sense into him, but he's eluded me thus far, and," he took a deep breath, "I'm afraid that with the most recent events, it seems that evil creatures are also seeking to accomplish something in these lands." He shuddered at the thought.

With a sigh, Glorfindel raked a hand through his hair, scowling at the ground before looking back up, "I will be honest with you," his gaze was searing, "I have sensed an uneasiness in the land for days now, maybe even weeks." Erestor swallowed at the words and the blond elf continued, "The attack this morning has been the only physical manifestation of this, and it's magnitude and nature has left a bad feeling in me."

If the famed balrog slayer was on edge and at a loss, then the whole situation must truly be one for worry. The golden elf was looking at him with clear eyes that betrayed no intention at misdirection, and it was strange how badly Erestor wanted to trust him. Perhaps it was his reputation, or maybe it was the easy way he rationalized and handled the situation. But regardless of the reason, the elf was disarming and his presence made Erestor wish he was able to tell him everything he had been refraining from sharing. But just because he had not acted negatively just yet, didn't mean the blond would not lose his control if he felt that the dark-haired elf was not to be trusted.

Erestor knew well enough what people could be like when pressure revealed their true selves, and that trusting a stranger too soon was likely to end disaster. It was decidedly difficult to keep himself wary of the elf, so sincere as he seemed to be, but he had fallen a fool too many times in his youth to his own naivety and the hidden intentions of others. He would hate for it to happen again.

"Have you any idea what could have attacked your officers?" he asked, just to have something to focus on.

The other elf gave a slow shake of his head, never taking his eyes off of Erestor, "I have a few theories, though none of them make any sense," his brow furrowed, "at least not for this Age."

Curiosity peaked, Erestor tilted his head, "What kind of theories?" he wondered if the other elf would mention any of the dark creatures that still roamed the far-east.

The blond shot him a look and shook his head, "It is too soon to be speculating such dark and terrible things," he shifted his weight, his face becoming more serious, "and I will not give power to those of shadow by uttering their names."

So the reborn warrior was superstitious, Erestor thought, storing the information in the back of his head. He wondered how in-tuned with the lands this elf must be, how powerful his senses and virtues were to have been returned by the Valar themselves. Such things were almost impossible to comprehend.

"I'm not sure if you are aware," he started slowly, after a brief silence, "but there was a small group of orcs near the area a few days back, at the foot of the Blue Mountains."

He watched the elf's eyes harden, his shoulders rising in tension, "And you mention this only now? What became of them?" The heated tone and the sudden fire in the blue eyes made Erestor take a step back before he could stop himself.

"I didn't think to mention them because I thought perhaps you already knew about it," he felt the bitter anger behind his words as the blond glared him. "How could I have known of something like that so far from where I was?"

"How do you pretend to be a protector of this realm if you're not even aware of the danger just outside your borders?" Erestor ground out. The warrior's nostrils flared as he stepped forward, "Don't," he growled, "assume to know how these lands are governed nor how I keep them protected."

Powerful hands clenched at the elf's sides, "What other information are you keeping from me?"

His heart leapt into his throat as the booming voice reverted in Erestor's chest. He held himself still, eyes narrowed at the blond and body tensed for a fight.

"Tell me the truth," the blond elf straightened to his full height, "what do you know of the assault on my warriors this morning?"

Teeth clenched tightly, Erestor all but growled, "I don't know, Great Glorfindel, maybe your officers were bested by some stray orcs that slipped past your borders." That only spiked the warrior's ire, but the dark-haired elf could hardly contain his words.

"Where are your warriors now? They have certainly had enough time to catch up by now." He was well aware that he was needlessly provoking the other, but his frayed nerves made control a slippery thing. The warrior's gaze was absolutely frigid, standing statue still as he stared down the dark haired elf, "Do not." his voice was low, but dangerous all the same, "Insult my warriors."

Before Erestor could even open his mouth to retort, a earsplitting screech broke the silence of the woods, making him clamp his hands over his ears. He was vaguely aware of Glorfindel doing the same, and he whipped his head around, eyes scanning the forest for the source of the petrifying sound.

Even muffled by his hands he could hear the horrific pitch of the scream, and when it ended, as abruptly as it had started, he was left with a painful ringing in his ears.

"What on Arda was that?" he hissed after cautiously lowering his hands. He stared into the woods for any sign of movement, and finding none, turned back to the other elf. The balrog slayer had a worrying look on his face; confusion, concern and disbelief mixing and flashing across his features. He gave no answer, only continued to stare out into the forest.

The scream came again, deeper in the woods and far enough that it didn't pierce Erestor's ears, though the sound was just as terrible. It was unlike anything he had ever heard before, and it seemed to suck the very life out of the land and air around them.

Something else sounded from within the woods, something that Erestor would have been able to distinguish anywhere. It was the faint sound of tempered steel clashing against something hard. Before he knew it, a golden blur whipped past him, the reborn warrior dashing towards the sounds, sword already drawn.

The dark haired elf didn't even think twice before running after the other, cringing when another wicked screech pierced the woods.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi all, how's it going?**

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Another hideous screech pierced the woods as Erestor followed behind the golden warrior, picking his way swiftly after the other who simply crashed through the forest in haste. The dark-haired elf searched his head to no avail for anything that would clue him into what kind of beast the scream could belong to, but nothing he had encountered before sounded as such, and he could hardly begin to imagine what could utter such a sickening wail.

The blond elf halted suddenly, whipping around as movement rushed past them, a quick dash of shadows to their left. Erestor stopped just as quickly and held his blades at the ready, eyes scanning the woods in the direction of the movement. Silence settled around them, as all sounds of the forest fell hushed and the two elves stood defensively, weapons raised and senses straining to make out even the slightest noise.

Stillness emanated from the woods, and for a long moment they stood steady to see if anything would make its presence known. All too soon Erestor felt a prickle at the back of his neck, and the overpowering sense of being watched made him raise his eyes to the high branches arcing above his head, sensing Glorfindel do the same. There among the thin limbs stared pale and twisted face, a drooling mouth hanging open to reveal wickedly sharp teeth.

Before he could utter a word, the thing let out another ear shattering scream, its hideous mouth unhinging widely, eyes gleaming with rage.

The force of the sound made Erestor cover his ears again, almost losing his grip on blades as he twisted his head, desperate to relieve the pain. He heard the balrog slayer yell, which was followed by a heavy shove to his shoulder, the force of it sending the dark-haired elf to the ground. He rolled with the fall, sensing something swoop and crash violently on the spot where he had just been. Bouncing to his feet, Erestor whipped around to face the balrog-slayer, catching the gleam of the other's sword as it arced down towards the black blur of the creature.

The thing dashed away, faster than a shadow chased by light as it twisted from the strike with a throat tearing hiss. Long, tattered hair whipped around as the creature shot away, slinking behind the balrog-slayer even as the elf turned to meet it. Glorfindel raised his sword again, but before he could swing, the creature screamed, mouth wide, teeth slashing against each other,

" _Elf of Aman_!" the voice was just as terrible as the scream, the harsh words scraping like gravel past its dry throat. Erestor was shocked that the thing could even speak, despite its almost human-like appearance. Glorfindel visibly flinched at the voice and before he could bring down his weapon, the long-limbed being fled, its growling screams following as it went. The balrog-slayer surged after it, disappearing into the woods within moments and Erestor rushed forward, heedless of his fear as he sprinted to catch up with the fleeing figures. His rattled mind whirled as he tried to piece together the image of the hideous thing, pale and wiry, with overgrown hair and horrendously twisted features. What evil could produce such an awful thing?

His body and mind came to a grinding halt when another sound broke through the silenced woods. It was a three-tune bird call, out of place in the stillness and too loud to his still ringing ears. Erestor felt his hands tighten around the hilts of his blades despite the familiarity of the sound. Even as he turned, he knew who he would find behind him, and long restrained anger rose violently from within. Eludor stepped slowly from behind a tree, hands held cautiously in front of him, "Hello, brother."

The voice was low, and achingly familiar, but oh so infuriating, and Erestor couldn't help the growl that escaped him. "You blasted fool! Where have you been?" He stepped forward, waving his arm in the direction the creature had taken off, "And what the pits was that!?"

The other elf eyed him warily, grey eyes narrowed as he tracked the blades in Erestor's possession. "Mind your weapons, brother," he said, "Why do you think I would know what that thing was." His voice was steady, but Erestor knew better. He lowered his hands to his sides, glaring daggers at the other elf as he did.

"You led that thing to us, didn't you." It was a statement that didn't need need any confirmation, even as the other elf's face fell into a guilty frown. "Why? And _what_ is it?" Erestor wanted badly to give chase to the thing, but he would not leave now that Eludor was here. The older elf shut his mouth with a discernible click of his teeth and he stared for a moment before speaking.

"I needed the balrog slayer to see it," he spoke so casually it was as if they were merely discussing the weather. "And now that he has, he can take care of it." The dismissive one-shoulder shrug had always been a source of fury to the younger elf and this was no exception. Erestor took a deep breath through his nose, jaw clenched in agitation, "That is the poorest excuse you have ever given." And the older elf was infamous for vague explanations and evasive mannerisms. "That thing can't be the only reason why you came all this way."

The other had the nerve to wave a hand at him, too busy looking around the woods as he spoke, "Never mind that," he started moving, leaving the relative safety of the tree to step closer to the younger elf, "What we need to do now is get out of here." There was a subtle urgency in his voice, but it only fueled Erestor's fire. How dare he turn up now and offer no explanation. He took a few steps back, pacing away from the other elf as he spoke.

"We are not going anywhere until you tell me what is going on." He glared heartedly at the elf, who only shot him a withering look.

"Erestor, this is not the time for your petulance," he grit out, "We need to go, now." The older elf moved swiftly, wrapping a strong hand around Erestor's arm and all but dragging him in the desired direction. He allowed himself to be lead away for a moment, torn between obeying his beloved brother and giving way to the festering uncertainty in his head. Abruptly, the younger elf protested, digging his heels into the ground, "No! No, I did not just chase you for months on end for you to pretend like nothing's happened!"

He twisted his arm free, using the same movement to grab a hold of the other's wrist. "Eludor please," his voice was suddenly desperate, dark eyes quietly pleading into jeweled grey ones, "Please tell me what is going on, tell me why the wizards were so worried and why they sent you here, and what was that monster, wha-"

Eludor slapped his hand over Erestor's mouth, effectively silencing him. The elf only shook his head, something unreadable flashing on his face before it disappeared.

"I want to tell you, and I will," his voice was soft, eyes glinting familiarly, "Just not here, not now. Please, let us go, get out of these woods and these forsaken lands. And then," he took a deep breath, "then I will tell you brother. I will tell you everything that I know." Mystery had been Eludor's way for as long as Erestor had known him, but he rarely allowed himself to become this worked up, preferring to settle on quiet brooding and passive aggressive commentary.

The stormy gleam in his eyes made Erestor all the more wary. It just wasn't like the older elf to show so much disquet, let alone be so vocal about it. He shook his head even though he relaxed his grip on the other's wrist, "'Lu, I just don't understand…" he trailed off when he felt himself being pulled forward, the other elf already moving again. He followed easily this time, picking up his pace as the other broke into a run.

"I know you're confused right now," the older elf called over his shoulder, "but it will make sense soon, I promise you." The determination in the elder's voice was a familiar comfort, but Erestor could not shake the unease that followed even as he forced himself to keep pace with him. The woods had gone quiet again, not even a whisper rising from the trees as the elves dashed across the leaf covered floor. Something wasn't right, Erestor thought with rising dread, something was very, terribly wrong.

He stopped abruptly, reeling at the sudden surge of panic that slammed through the woods, a feeling followed by the rise of voices and clanging steel. Erestor shook off the hands that grabbed at his arm, growling at Eludor to release him as he made for the sounds of distress, "We have to help," he snapped angrily, "That thing could kill someone!"

Eludor merely shook his head, panic flashing through his eyes for a moment, "They will be fine, it wont kill them." The rushed words were hardly convincing, they were uncertain and tremulous, and it was all Erestor needed to know that there was no truth behind them.

"How would you even know that?" the silence that met the question made him grit his teeth, he didn't bother saying more as he turned to the commotion again. He had taken all of two strides when he felt heavy hands grab his shoulders, spinning him around to meet too-wide grey eyes.

"Erestor, I'm telling you, they will be fine but we need to go." The first part was a lie, that much was clear, but the intensity in the elf's voice and the seriousness with which he spoke spoke sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head anyways, twisting from the other's grip, "Get off of me," he said as he stepped away, "Since when have you been such a coward?"

The older elf stared at him, fear clear in his eyes as he shook his head, desperation rising in his voice, "Those things are dangerous, you can't go near them."

Erestor was sick of the indirectness, and he took another step away from the cryptic elf, "Damn you," he muttered before turning again. If the other elf decided he wanted to be difficult, than he himself had no reason to humor him or waste his time trying to wrest the truth out from such a reluctant idiot. The woods had grown silent again and he had no time to waste in trying to decipher what the other elf meant.

He sprinted quietly towards where he had last heard the struggle, straining his senses to pick up any noise out of place in the silence. He could feel his brother's presence stubbornly behind him but paid no mind as he neared a small clearing. He slowed as he saw a couple of elves huddled back to back, heads swiveling quickly and eyes scanning the foliage around them.

Still out of sight, Erestor came to a full stop, hesitation overpowering his desire to see what the others were looking at. These elves were not familiar to him, and if they were anything like the balrog slayer, they would be very violently wary of him. Not that he blamed them, there were terrible things running around these woods, after all.

He felt Eludor settle at his side, but didn't take his eyes off the clearing or the elves, hands holding tightly to his blades. It was only a moment later that a sudden movement came from the woods.

A loud hissing turned into a growl that broke the silence as something dark lunged from the treeline, and directly at the group. One of the elves called something out and the group raised their weapons quickly, moving as a unit as the shadow lunged at them. The creature swerved away at the last moment, feinting to the right as one elf took a swing. The thing screeched and looped around to lunge again, barreling towards the elves before dodging away again, narrowly missing another swing.

Erestor frowned as he watched, sharp eyes following the patterns of lunges and dodges of the horrible creature. It was a mocking dance and it unnerved the dark-haired elf, as he instinctively let his eyes scan the tree-tops, knowing a distraction when he saw one. He almost hated himself when his eyes landed on the well concealed, shadowy figure that clung to the branches. It was poised directly above the group of elves and even as Erestor moved forward and heard the sharp intake of breath from his side, the twisted figure dropped to those unsuspecting below.

The shape on the ground had just evaded another swing, and before the elf could raise the weapon again, the dark creature lunged, slamming straight into the elf as the one from above attached itself to another, effectively scattering the group in a panicked frenzy.

Erestor rushed into the clearing, behind the elf wrestling with the offending creature and just as he shoved the beast from him, Erestor threw his blade, watching in satisfaction as it sunk into the thing's chest. The stranger threw him a surprised but grateful look as the beast let out an enraged scream and staggered back.

All traces of victory fled when the snarling creature merely stepped forward, heedless of the weapon buried in its body.

Shock shot through Erestor as jagged toothed monster lunged for them, barely having enough time to dive out of the way from a bodily tackle. The grasping, flailing limbs snatched for him and a brief, sharp pain registered in his mind as he bounced back to his feet. As he turned his remaining blade in his hand and faced the creature, a warm trickle down his cheek made him aware of just where the thing had scratched him. Someone shouted nearby, the phrase lost to Erestor, spoken in rushed Sindarin, and far too quickly for him to pick out the meaning.

He took a fraction of a moment to quickly survey the chaos around him, seeing two other elves locked in defense against one of the beasts and the elf he had helped crouching a distance away. The brown-haired ellon was staring wide eyed at the pale creature in front of him, which was staring back with obscene, hungry eyes. It swiped a long, discolored tongue across its lips, letting out a low rumble of a growl as it bent its head unnaturally and it bared its teeth.

Eludor was no where to be seen and Erestor pushed away the sinking feeling in his stomach, focusing solely on the ghastly creature as it eyed the other elf. It moved suddenly, rushing at the elf who, he noticed with dawning horror, was bleeding heavily from jagged scratches at his neck and face. The fear was apparent in the other elf as he scurried backwards, unable to get to his feet. Erestor dashed forward, desperately hoping to intercept the thing before he had to witness the other elf come to such a gruesome end.

He met the beast head on, hand wrapping around the hilt of his blade that still protruded from its chest, barely stopping it in its tracks. Up so close he could see the bottomlessness of its eyes, and the darkness of those depths sent a horrid feeling through his body. He had to use all his strength to look away to and shove the thing off its intended course, a movement which brought him down as well.

Screeching and snarling, the beast bucked against the blade, twisting itself to get closer, sharp teeth snapping hungrily at the elf. Erestor tried to use the imbedded blade to keep the thing at a distance, but with the hilt becoming slick with the creature's blood, he felt his grip slide. Desperate, he thrust his forearm at the monster's throat in a bid keep the thing's teeth from his face, but the clumsy move simply made his arm more accessible, and the snarling creature wasted no time in biting down, teeth sinking viciously into his flesh.

He cried out at the jolt of pain, and the panic drove his fury as he pushed against the embedded weapon. He felt the blade slide between bones, burying deep into the creature's chest, and yet it had no affect. The mouth tightened around his trapped arm and the elf could feel the creature's throat working against his skin. He shivered with the sudden realization that the thing was swallowing- _drinking_ his blood. Revulsion filled him as he bucked again, gripping the blade even tighter as he tried twisting it- but then the teeth loosened as a high pitched screeched filled the air. Erestor wasted no time in yanking his blade and arm away, furiously scrambling backwards, confused but relieved to be free. He couldn't take his eyes off the ghastly creature that watched him angrily, it's face so pale that the skin seemed translucent, tiny blue veins visible beneath the thin skin. The dark, fathomless eyes seemed to suck him into them, a deranged intelligence emanating from their depths.

The creature broke its stare, screaming as it swiveled its gaunt head at something behind it. It must have been but a fraction of a moment, but it felt like an age had passed since Erestor had looked into those eyes.

He shook his head as he registered Eludor standing behind the creature, sword raised and eyes trained on the beast. "Leave him alone," he growled in a voice that was terrible and unfamiliar to the younger elf. The dark being growled, crouching to its feet as it hissed at him,

" _Lost little elf,_ " the voice was chilling, and Erestor noticed the other creature across the clearing had abandoned the other elves and had turned its attention to them. " _Come back for more?"_ The creature uttered a low growl, its taunting words bubbling past a blood stained smile. It was a horrible sight, such a mangled twisting of the creature's lips.

The one furthest from them stalked forward, opening and closing its jaws with audible clicks as it moved, " _sweet-blooded elf,"_ the breathy voice struck some terrible chord in Erestor's heart, and an overwhelming fear suddenly hit him, making his head spin in terror. A weak whimper to his right broke through the haze, and he turned his head to find the source of the pitiful sound.

It was the elf from before, who was pale-faced and panting, glassy eyes taking in the horrible creatures. The elf clutched weakly at his still bleeding neck, the front of his tunic soaked through entirely. The elf's companions were across the clearing, kept from aiding by the stalking monster standing between them. Erestor moved without thought, clumsily dragging himself the short distance to the injured elf, and using the weapon still clutched in his hand to cut a piece of the other's own cloak. He shakily bunched the thick fabric at the bleeding neck, distractedly hoping his messy ministrations would be of some help as the elf's terrified eyes fell on his face.

A tremulous growl made him flinch and he snapped his head back, noticing the creatures slowly creeping towards Eludor, who stood stock still and watching as the things approached. _Run,_ he wanted to yell, _don't let them get you!_ he wanted so badly to scream at the other to take off and never stop lest the dark creatures caught up with him. But the words stuck in his throat, his jaw clenched too tightly to speak and breaths coming too fast.

The older elf wouldn't look at him, his eyes trained steadily on the approaching monsters. Before Erestor could gather himself enough to speak, someone else broke through the tree line, a golden blur in the setting sunlight.

"Foul creatures!" the strong voice was almost a relief, and Erestor felt the elf in his care release a tense breath, "What evil have you brought to these lands?" The things screamed angrily at the balrog slayer, but suddenly the elf's attention was not on them, but instead trained on Eludor as well.

"Elbereth!" the ancient warrior gasped, eyes going wide, "Who are you?" The surprise in the elf's voice sent Erestor's mind reeling once again, floored by the shock in the other's face. He turned to look at his brother, childishly hoping to find the reassurance he so desperately needed in the other's presence. Instead, the utter fear written across the older elf's expression was like a physical blow, making him feel sick with uncertainty.

" _Erestor, I'm sorry,"_ the rushed words were said in a hasty common Easterling dialect, the look in the elf's eyes all too familiar. "If you want me, come and get me!" he yelled at the monsters, taking off a moment later in a mad-dash for the woods. He called out without looking back, " _Just wait for me, brother!"_ And then he was gone, and the creatures with him, plunging the clearing in silence once again. Erestor's limbs felt like lead, heart hammering in his chest as he tried to force himself to get up and give chase to the elf once again. But the will to do so would not come, and he found himself simply staring widely at the woods where the other had disappeared.

He sensed movement in his periphery, the other elves stirring back into movement now that the immediate danger was gone. The dark haired elf merely turned his attention to the other before him, noticing his horrendously white-knuckled grip on the elf's uninjured shoulder. He forced himself to relax, taking an unsteady breath and then another, uncertain what to make of all this mess and too afraid to think too much on it.

The injured elf's eyes fluttered and he sagged heavily against Erestor's hands. He felt steadiness return to him as a new urgency filled him.

"Hey Golden one," his voice was too loud and all wrong, "your friend here is bleeding to death." He didn't mean to sound so callous, but he was drained and his mind still felt all too detached from the situation. Several pairs of footsteps stopped near him, and large hands took over where he was holding pressure to the injured neck and another elf settled behind the fading one.

"What happened!" the balrog slayer demanded, his eyes held firmly on the hurt elf, but voice directed towards him.

"What do you think happened?" Erestor snapped, roughly wiping his blood covered hands on his leggings as he shifted to stand. A hand shot out and grabbed his arm, keeping him from moving away. "You're not going anywhere." The serious voice interrupted any protest that formed on the dark-haired elf's lips as the blond motioned to another elf to take over keeping pressure on the injury.

The silent threat in the warrior's eyes as he turned to him did not stop Erestor from trying to twist away, wrenching his arm in the other's grip as he growled, "What do you even want from me?"

"Some answers would be a great start," bottomless blue eyes bore intensely into him, "Was _that_ elf your _brother_?"

What a strange question that was, out of all the things that the other could have focused on. "What does it matter to you?" he grit out, giving his arm another vicious pull. The other elf was not having his deflection, giving him a solid shake and speaking once more in a hard voice,

"I asked you a question, and you are in no position to deny answering." The intensity of the warrior's stare made it impossible to look away, "Now tell me the truth; who was that?"

He was quite frankly a terrifying elf, his anger rolling off in powerful waves that made Erestor's heart jump in his throat. The other elves watched on in wide eyed silence, not daring to interject.

"That was my brother, you thick-headed brute, I told you about him before." Erestor rushed out, unable to stop the flood of words that came to him. Blond brows furrowed, something indiscernible swirling in his eyes. "But not by blood?"

The question floored him, mind screeching to a surprised halt as the dark-haired elf stopped his struggle against the offensive grip. He stared wide eyed at the other, "wha- how did you-"

He didn't even get to finish as the other cut in, "The two of you are not truly related," he stated bluntly, "he is not your blood is he? What is his name?" The dark-haired elf merely shook his head, words failing as he struggled to process what was happening, and how the reborn warrior knew about such a thing.

"I told you-" he started lowly, but was once again interrupted by a harsh shake through the arm, "His _real name,"_ the urgent light int he blond's eyes was all too much, "What is it?"

"Stop it!" he cried out, twisting his arm again, desperate to get away from the mad elf and his mind shattering questions. "Let go!" he growled as he gave another vicious pull, mindless of the bruises he was destined to have. The warrior shook his head, grip tightening despite his struggles, "Just calm down and tell me-"

"Captain," the weak voice broke the stare the blond had fixed upon Erestor, dragging those eyes away from the struggling elf to the barely conscious and injured one. "He saved me. He is n-not our enemy." The panted plea seemed to take all the elf's strength, draining his face of what little color there had been. The balrog slayer blinked at him once, twice and then looked back at the elf he had trapped in his grip.

Erestor felt a tremor run through him, unable to hold back the shudder despite his desire to show no weakness in front of so many strangers. A guilty look flashed across the ancient warrior's face before he slowly let go of his arm, though he did not move his gaze away.

"You are coming back with us to Lindon, there will be no question about it." His voice was softer, but it still carried the weight of command. Erestor did not answer, he found that he could not, and he simply cradled his throbbing arm close to him. The blond warrior tipped his head towards him, stating simply and calmly, "We need answers."

 _So do I,_ the dark-haired elf thought as he gave the barest of nods _._ He wanted answers too, but more than anything, he wished he had listened to his brother when he had had the chance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again.**

* * *

 _-8, 9, 10…_ Erestor let go of the breath he was holding, having reached the number he had always been told to count to when he wanted to practice patience. He took another breath through his nose, repeating the same count in a bid to settle his rattled nerves.

His head stayed bowed as his eyes quietly tracked the elves near him. They spoke sparingly, taking easy instructions from the balrog slayer as their wide, wary eyes jumped occasionally to the woods and shadows cast by trees. The injured one had been hastily treated with bandages and some healing herbs that the dark-haired elf was unfamiliar with. A litter was quickly being put together, a rough product of shaky and nervous hands, but effective enough for what it was meant for.

The land was growing darker, dusk settling in as the sun relented, and the shifting season was all too apparent in the slight chill the evening brought. Night no longer held on to the intensity of the day's warmth, as it did during the height of the summer months, and it was especially obvious to Erestor, as he sat back against his legs, his knees soaked with cold mud and sleeves torn and dirtied with blood. The elf frowned down at the splashes of both black and red that marred the once beautiful fabric, twisting the frayed ends of thick threads that peaked through the holes left behind by jagged teeth.

He let out another slow breath as he quietly thought over what the reborn warrior had said, his vague words about the creatures hinted at something else, something darker to come, but the elf had stopped there, letting his sparse explanation remain unhelpful. And the blond's reluctance to expand on his sudden concern over Eludor and his knowledge of their lack of actual blood relation was equally as frustrating. It seemed, Erestor thought heatedly, that the balrog-slayer and the blue wizards had much more in common than he ever expected. And it was a similarity he did not appreciate.

The dark-haired elf successfully restrained a heavy sigh, choosing instead to shift about so he could bring his bitten arm closer to him, feeling his fingertips growing cold in the fading light. He noticed one of the elves glance over at him, catching the movement from the corner of his eye, but choosing to ignore it. He had been silent since the balrog-slayer had repeated for the last time that he would be going to the kingdom with them, stating in a steely voice that now that it was confirmed that there were vampires, yes _vampires_ in these woods, there would be no leniency in that respect. He had warned him sternly that any attempt to run would not be taken lightly, but the dark-haired elf had hardly heeded those words as he fixated on the previous information.

 _Vampires,_ that was the answer Erestor had received when he persistently questioned the golden warrior about the identity of those malformed beasts. _They are dark beings from an age long ago,_ the other had said in a serious tone, some haunted shadow flickering across his face as he spoke. He had said that most of those still living from those darker ages believed the fell beasts gone and disappeared, sunken into history along with Beleriand. But it seemed now, that they were all wrong.

Erestor had heard of such dark beings in stories from his brother, cautionary tales of evil creatures sprung from nightmares that stalked the lands and tormented lost elves who wandered too far. The older elf had always had a penchant for dramatizing things, but the unnerved look deep within his eyes had driven the point home every time. Evil once lurked in these lands, and it was true now, that evil still did.

He shuddered as he thought back to those gaping mouths and the grinding voices, a faint ringing still persisting in his ears. A rise of voices drew his attention back towards the other elves, and he observed quietly as they finalized the litter, and laid their injured comrade in it. The elf was still, his eyes were closed and face too pale, and Erestor could only hope that the elf was merely in a healing sleep.

"Alright," the reborn warrior spoke suddenly, his deep voice breaking the silence all too abruptly. "It's time to go. We've already stayed here too long." He nodded towards his two silent guards as they lifted the litter in smooth movement. Erestor watched the blond as he gathered their scattered weapons, feeling anger flicker through him as he saw the brute carelessly handling his double blades.

The elf had demanded that he relinquish his weapons, and had all but pried the long knives away from him. If he hadn't been trying so hard to reign his temper and appear collected, the dark-haired elf would have yelled and hit at the other until he returned the weapons.

The blond directed his elves to begin walking ahead of him, intending to guard from the back as they made their way through the woods. He motioned with his hand for Erestor to stand and the dark-haired elf took a moment to frown before making his way to his feet, feeling a touch of lightheadedness follow the movement. He held his injured arm closer as he forced himself to step forward, remembering how much the wound had bled and silently cursing himself for it. Even now it oozed sluggishly, blood welling between his fingers and trailing down his arm.

"Take this."

The voice surprised him badly, and he visibly flinched as he whipped his head towards the sound. The balrog-slayer stood to his side, holding out his hands in a peaceful manner, a thick piece of fabric held in one that he extended slowly. "For your arm."

Erestor kept his eyes on the blond, hesitating briefly before reaching out to take the bandage. He knew better than to let an injury bleed freely, and already he had neglected the gash for too long. He gave a minute nod, barely a jerk of his head, as he tried to push away the affects of blood loss, trying to clear the nagging fuzziness at the edge of his senses. The dark-haired elf paused for a moment to wrap the fabric around his arm, sensing the warrior watching him closely. He wondered if he could delay the walk to the kingdom, buy himself more time in the woods before he was forced behind stone walls and utterly surrounded by strangers.

Eludor had told him to wait, but wait where and for just how long? Something inside him loathed the idea of entering the city with no more answers than he had left the East with. He hated the disorienting feeling of being left in the dark, of not knowing what his brother knew, or what the blue wizards were so secretive about. It didn't help matters that the reborn warrior seemed to know something important as well. All in all, Erestor was not a happy elf, and he wanted badly to have something go his way for once on this cruel day.

He finished wrapping his arm, securing the bandage tightly around the limb before looking back towards the warrior. The golden haired elf was watching the others ahead of them, and Erestor felt a brief flash of guilt over the injured elf, knowing that the longer he delayed, the more the other suffered for it. He tried to squash down the feeling as he forced himself forward, grateful that his knees didn't shake as he feared that they would.

The walk was boring, uneventful and silent as the two Lindon elves cautiously maneuvered their unconscious friend along the path, followed closely by the other two. The dark-haired elf let himself sink into the soft whispers of the forest as they moved, not engaging with the trees but allowing their voices to brush his senses. Glorfindel held his silence as he walked, sword at the ready as he followed a few paces behind, keeping the strange elf in the middle of their slow procession. It wasn't a prisoner march, but it certainly felt that way to Erestor.

"Captain," one of the elves at the back of the litter broke the silence in gentle Sindarin, "Where is everyone else?" His words were slow, and the simple question was easy enough for Erestor to understand, the trepidation in the tone peeking his attention. He looked over to the blond warrior, watching his expression closely. The elf glanced at him briefly, before turning his eyes back to watching the woods, "I found them before I found you." He answered easily, his features offering nothing of help and a composed look staying put on his face as he spoke. "I sent them back to the city with strict instructions to keep anyone else from leaving. The second patrol will be waiting for our arrival."

The blond looked back at Erestor, now gauging his reaction and looking for signs of comprehension. Sindarin had been a language that the dark-haired elf had been more familiar with in his youth, and while it still lingered in his knowledge, the lack of its use in the East had made it one his least proficient ones. He never expected to be in the situation he was in now, where his fountain of knowledge of other languages served him no good. If spoken slowly, comprehension was not a problem, but rarely was such a language spoken as such.

He gave the golden warrior a half-hearted, one shouldered shrug, not wanting to seem in-proficient but despising the idea of promising efficiency where he could not do so fully. The blond elf merely looked towards the others, not saying anything for a long moment before he spoke, switching easily to Westeron as he did so.

"Tell me, strange one," he began, "what _truly_ brought you here?"

Erestor frowned at the ground, watching his steps as he moved to avoid upturned roots, "I told you already," he tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, "I came here chasing my brother, and ended up finding all of this." He waved a hand in a vague motion as he looked up, briefly catching the other's eyes. "I wasn't lying about that."

The golden warrior hummed lowly, brows furrowing slightly as he considered the words. "If that is true, then why did he come to you immediately after I left your presence." It was a good question, and one Erestor had no answer for. The dark-haired elf shook his head, pushing back the annoyance he felt rise at the accusatory tone.

"He has been avoiding me for months, but it's only now that he's decided to come and act as if nothing's happened." The bitterness in his voice was all too apparent, but he could hardly help it. "He was very adamant that we leave these lands," a small shudder of regret ran through the elf's body, "And if it wasn't for those monsters, we would have." He still wondered at what the older elf would have told him if they had had the chance.

Blue eyes watched him closely, and for too long a moment, the silence reigned between them as they walked. Erestor felt himself growing impatient, the heaviness in his limbs quickly depleting any energy he had for keeping a placid facade.

"What?" he finally snapped, moments after he nearly tripped over a loose stone. The other elf huffed a breath out through his nose, "Do you truly not know your brother's real name?"

This again, Erestor perked at the change in conversation, his heart suddenly thundering in his chest as he snapped his attention towards the other. "I never had any reason to doubt his name," he spoke almost too quickly, "and how do you even know that it isn't true? Or that we aren't truly brothers- how would anyone know that as quickly as you did?" Again the whirlwind of confusion assaulted his mind, the need for answers growing almost manic.

The other elf gave a hesitant look, opening and closing his mouth before shaking his head. His reluctance to voice his thoughts spurred the dark-haired elf even further. "What do you know, Golden one?" he stopped moving, planting his feet firmly where he stood as he glared at the other elf. The warrior did the same, freezing his movements as he locked eyes with him. He looked towards his warriors, both of who had stopped as well and were looking nervously over at the two. The blond elf heaved a sigh, and motioned towards Erestor, "Keep moving," he held a hand up to quiet the growing protest, "I will tell you, but keep moving."

The angry elf stood his ground for a moment, reluctance and indecision warring for control. It was the gentle coaxing of the trees that relaxed his mind enough for him to force his body forward. He kept his eyes on the blond this time, who looked back steadily.

"My guessing of your non-relation was just that: a guess, although it was a very strong one." he sounded so nonchalant it almost irritated Erestor further, but the dark-haired elf held his silence. "Your reaction confirmed that for me, but the reason why I had such a strong suspicion is because your brother… well, he holds a striking similarity to someone I know." The other's words held just a touch of the confusion that Erestor felt, and dizzying thoughts of his brother's long lost family filled his head.

"Do you think they are related?" He asked in a quiet voice, too uncertain to speak any louder. Eludor had only ever mentioned his lost family a handful of times, and never in much detail. A younger Erestor had learned not to pry and had come to assume that the other's true family was long dead, just as his own.

The blond sighed as he gave his head a single shake. "I do not know for sure…" he trailed off as he glanced around the darkened woods, shortly returning his gaze to the elf and starting again. "And I cannot say anything for certain, but I can say that it is too uncanny to not be significant."

Erestor agreed with the elf, knowing all too well that coincidences were never just that, but his mind was at conflict with his heart. How could he believe this unknown elf on such accusations against his brother? How could he consider such distrust against the person who he had known for as long as he could remember, and the one who raised and practically taught him everything he knew. How was it so easy for him to believe a stranger, rather than defend his own _brother_?

He tried to quell the floundering emotions, tried to focus his mind on the present and formulate some form of response that would keep the other elf talking. Despite it all, he simply found that he could not think clearly through all the messy things running through his head. He knew logically, that Eludor's behavior warranted such suspicion, but that did not simplify things in the least.

They continued walking, carefully navigating the dark woods by the guidance of their own keen sight and the full moon above. It was a stroke of luck for the elves that the sky was clear and the moon unobstructed, for if it had been any darker, they would have had to risk torches or even stopping. The dark-haired elf took to watching for any obstacles before them, keeping his eyes trained on the ground in front of the two elves carrying their injured friend. A few times, he successfully pointed out inconspicuous branches or unsteady stones, preventing the burdened elves from stumbling and falling, though he was hardly aware of the grateful looks the two gave him when he did so.

"What do you know from the Blue wizards?" The question dragged Erestor back from the depths of his thoughts, though he did not take his eyes from the floor.

"I told you that as well," he sighed, "They didn't tell me anything useful." He shook his head, "Stupid, secretive wizards." His voice trailed off as he frowned at the memory of the tight-lipped Istari. The ancient warrior snorted, "But…" he prompted softly and Erestor bristled.

"But what?" he said with a sideways glance at the other. The elf gave him a look, raising an eyebrow as he spoke, "You're telling me that an elf like you simply took their silence in peace?"

The dark-haired elf felt his shoulders hunch further, unnerved at the other's uncanny ability to just see right through him. "Fine. I stole a look at some of the papers they had been speaking over when they weren't around." He confessed quickly, feeling rather ridiculous as he heard a quiet huff from the other two elves. "None of it was very helpful, there were only a few sketches and some words in a language I couldn't understand." The other nodded, eyes no longer watching him but trained back on the land. Erestor narrowed his eyes at the blond, feeling paranoia creep into his mind, "how do you know that I did that?"

The blond elf smirked as he shook his head, not bothering to look at him as he replied, "You are easy to read, strange one."

The smugness in the other's voice reminded Erestor too much of the stern-face Pallando, and he felt his nose flare as he huffed in annoyance. Before he could form a response, the trees thinned and they were suddenly and abruptly out of the woods, walking briskly across tall grass and towards the dark shape of a stone wall. Erestor raised his head, feeling his eyes widen and steps slow as he looked past the wall that acted as the facade of Lindon. He could just make out the outline of the sleeping city stretching into the night sky.

A nudge at his shoulder brought him back to the present, noticing that the elves had already crossed quite a distance, leaving himself and the golden warrior behind. The sight of the moonlit city waiting in the distance set something gnawing inside the dark-haired elf's stomach, alighting a flicker of some long forgotten memory across the back of his mind.

"Come now," the balrog-slayer said, nudging him forward once again. "We are here, and the sooner we get in, the better things will work out."

Those were hardly encouraging words and Erestor found that his knees felt stiffer, limbs more awkward and uncoordinated than before as he forced himself to move, eyes not leaving the outline of the city before him.

They crossed to the wall in silence, the blond elf keeping pace with him as the dark-haired elf grew slower the closer they got. Eventually though, he had to pull the reluctant elf the rest of the way there, all too aware that the flighty one wouldn't think twice about trying to run. As they reached the other elves waiting by gate, Erestor could see the previously closed entrance opening to let them in, torches flickering through the dark as they neared. The blond's firm grip remained on his upper arm, pulling him forward and through the gate when he found that he could not will his own legs to do so.

Blinking away to burn of the light, Erestor looked around owlishly at the great city, hearing the gates close resoundingly behind him. Large stone buildings lined the broad streets, as homes and other constructions glowed in the reflections of firelight from torches. Even in the moonlight, the elf could see their beautiful and delicate designs, capturing his attention as he came to a stop. He looked around wildly, noting that just in the distance, he could see a pair of spiraling towers reaching high into the darkened sky.

Fire lamps cast orange shadows across the streets and warriors that now quickly made their way toward the new arrivals. Their steely faces and glinting eyes made the dark-haired elf take an unconscious step back, sudden apprehension flooding his body and chasing away all traces of exhaustion.

"Captain Glorfindel!" someone said in a strong voice, "What has happened?" the speaker came forward as others rushed past him to reach the injured elf and his companions. The balrog-slayer shook his head as he moved to meet the other, "Too much for me to relay here," his voice was heavy with weariness, "There is much that I need to explain, but I would like to do so only once, with the king and his advisors together."

Much of what the reborn elf was saying was hard to make out, the words drowned out by the rise of voices around him. Erestor looked around cautiously, taking in the sudden crowd that had swallowed the other elves he had been with, and not finding them, he turned back to the golden warrior. He missed the end of his words but caught the wave of his hand as the blond motioned towards him. The elf immediately felt himself lock up as the nameless stranger turned a stern gaze on him, eyes blazing with a fierce light as they sized him up.

He felt trapped in that gaze, uncomfortable under the utter scrutiny that the eyes held. The tall elf was almost as imposing as the balrog-slayer, and he had nothing but mistrust and apprehension scrawled across his features. The glaring elf listened to the blond as he watched Erestor, eyes taking him in as only a trained warrior could. The cold precision with which he did so unnerved him, and he was just barely able to restrain his driving desire to fidget under the gaze. Something else was said, too quiet in tone to be made out, and suddenly a dozen pairs of eyes were on him, freezing the frayed-nerved elf even further. He barely dared to breathe as the tall warrior moved, leaving the balrog-slayer's side as he strode purposefully towards him.

The elf spoke quickly, but the Sindarin words were lost through the rushing of blood in his ears. With the way his heart pounded, Erestor was surprised that the thing didn't just burst out of his chest where he stood. His hands burned for something to hold, seeking comfort in the feel of weapons that were no longer within reach. The other elf was upon him, leaning in too closely as he voiced his question once again. It was not courage or strength that held Erestor still in the wake of the elf's presence, but utter fear that had frozen his limbs and made them unresponsive.

The tall elf suddenly backed off, pulled away easily by the balrog-slayer as he explained something in an calm tone.

"-oesn't understand Sindarin." He managed to catch the end of the warrior's statement, focusing hard on the words as he struggled to reign his nerves, forcing a breath despite his seized lungs. "He was just asking for your name and why it is you are here." The blond elf turned to him, the switch to Westeron bringing some sense of ease to the situation, though not nearly enough.

"That was certainly one way to ask." His breathy words came quicker than his thoughts could catch up, and he saw the nameless elf's eyes harden, though the balrog-slayer merely rolled his own. "Listen, strange one," he began with a sigh, "You are in Lindon now, and a lot of the elves here are not going to take kindly to your brashness, especially not the king's advisors."

"What do I care for what they think of me." Anger re-kindled briefly inside of him, and Erestor latched on to it, nearly desperate with the need to feel anything other than fear. The blond gave him a serious look, eyes unreadable as he gave his head a slight shake.

"You will care about what they think when you are wishing for them to believe anything you say." There was something indecipherable in the other's tone, but before he could get a chance to decide what it was, an angry voice interrupted.

"Enough of this," the tall, raven-haired warrior turned to the blond, "We must gather with the King, and he," the elf waved a hand at Erestor, "must be dealt with." He glared only briefly before addressing the other elves around them, "Take him into holding."

The ominous words raised the dark-haired elf's defenses, and he took another step back before remembering the dozens of elves surrounding them. It was too late to get out of this situation and even now, as all instincts screamed at him to run, there was nowhere to turn that ensured safety. Even the born-again warrior tensed, turning his attention fully towards the other elf, "Captain Dauchon, let us not act so rashly."

Burning eyes turned towards the balrog-slayer, and all Erestor could think was how grateful he was that the look was not directed towards him. "With all due respect, Captain," the emphasis on the word was an unsavory thing, "There are certain matters in which you may not be the most appropriate one to decide how to handle."

The balrog-slayer shut his mouth with a click, visibly composing himself before speaking, he looked the other clearly in the eye, "I understand, Captain. You must do as you see fit," his voice was steady, though a hint of anger lay within it.

The blond's surrender made the panic flare all the more in Erestor, and seeing the other elf motion for the guards to move in on him, sent ice through his veins. He could hardly give into fear before they reached to grab a hold of his arms. "Hey! let go of me!" he struggled against the hands trying to restrain him. He shook off a couple of lighter grips, stumbling back as others pushed in to try to grab at him, "Don't touch me."

The guards did not heed his words, even as he growled and cursed at them to back off. If he had any room to do so, he would run as hard and as far as he could to get away from the unfamiliar faces. As it was, all he could do was lash out with a swift kick to one elf who got too close, hearing the other grunt as he grabbed at his shin. As briefly satisfying as it was, the action only served to fuel the intensity with which the guards made to grab him. He was more than ready to defend himself further when a voice stopped him from doing just that.

"Stop fighting them," the balrog-slayer yelled over the commotion, waving some warriors down as they rose in defense, "they mean you no harm."

 _No_ , the thought raced through the dark-haired elf's head, _harm is exactly what they meant_. But the logic behind compliance stopped him from lashing out again, freezing in place when two elves grabbed a hold of his arms. He knew that he was no match against so many others, and that he was already too deep in this mess to fight his way out.

He held himself stiffly, resisting the urge to twist away and kick out, hating every moment of the rough, restricting hands keeping him in place. The dark-haired captain came forward, giving some instruction to his guards as his eyes quickly looked at Erestor once more. Even as trapped as he felt, the restrained elf still sent a glare at the other, muttering a curse at him in a dialect he knew the other would not understand.

The captain's brow furrowed at that, before his features turned steady again, "Take him to the holding cells and guard him until further notice." He spoke in slow Westeron, ensuring that the elf would understand, "I'm sure the king will want to question you shortly."

Erestor was about to tell just what he thought about their king, when another voice rose above the others.

"Captain Glorfindel, Captain Dauchon!" another, dark-haired elf called out, "What is it with all this commotion?"

Erestor turned his head towards the sound and felt himself jolt against the guards' grip, flinching hard as his breath caught in his throat. He felt himself stare wildly, eyes wide as the newcomer stopped by the balrog-slayer's side. _"Oh Arda, what is this?"_ he felt the words leave him in a rush, the Easterling rolling off his tongue breathlessly as he gave a small lunge towards the other.

The stranger glanced at him in confusion, except it wasn't a stranger, not entirely. Looking at the other elf was like looking at Eludor, and even from the distance, Erestor could see the uncanny resemblance, that just for a moment, made him believe he was actually staring at his brother.

Too many things raced through Erestor's mind at once, questions, curses and more, all jumbling together and leaving him speechless. He hardly noticed the other elves looking at him, questions in their eyes as the strange elf pulled against the restraining hands. A loud voice gave a command, and guards offered little chance for the confused elf to sort his thoughts, pulling him swiftly in a direction dictated to them. _This can't be real,_ the thought flashed through Erestor's head, _This_ cannot _be real._ He refused to believe that the familiarity he saw in the other elf was anything other than his exhausted mind playing tricks on him

Regardless, he cut one last glance over to where the other elf stood, watching the familiar face screw up in confusion, and turn the elf at his side. But the balrog-slayer was watching the captive elf, keen gaze taking in the other's reaction, his expression indiscernible. Erestor couldn't help but look away angrily, feeling the tiniest flicker of betrayal mix in with the other emotions roiling his mind. He shoved it away ferociously, before letting himself be lead away. He tried to school his features, tried to settle on a blank expression that wouldn't give away more than he already had. He lost track of where he was being taken, too lost in his own mind as he played through the impossible information of the situation he had found himself in.


	5. Chapter 5

Glorfindel sighed deeply and shook his head as he leaned his elbows on his knees. He stared unseeingly into his nearly empty goblet of wine, wishing he had more time to enjoy it adequately. In the quiet of his bedroom, sitting on the soft edge of his bed, exhaustion had crept back into his bones, and the warmth of the room slowly sapped away any desire to leave.

He knew he needed to get a move on, as he had only been given but a moment to change his clothing and gather his thoughts before he was to join the others in the king's meeting rooms. The advisors, captains and other elves charged with the safety of the city were to be present as well, and there was nothing Glorfindel wanted more than to hide himself away in his room. He wanted to crawl into his bed and shut out the world that had weighed on him all day.

Or perhaps it had been longer than that, he mused, perhaps the dullness at the edge of his senses and painful shadow in his heart have been there since before he awoken this morning. He thought that maybe, his limbs had felt heavy since before he even left Valinor. He wondered again, if it had not been a mistake that had him released from Mandos' and thrust coldly into these unfamiliar lands. This tiredness only helped to heighten the fog in his mind, the cold emptiness that lingered even on his best days.

Glorfindel shoved his darkening thoughts away, finishing the contents of his cup in one last swallow and standing quickly. As he made for the door, he spared one last, longing glance at his bed and exited the room, smoothing his despicably unruly hair back as best he could.

He walked in silence, his feet taking him to his destination as his thoughts ran rampant through his head. There was much he needed to recount to the king and the others, much that needed discussing and strategizing. Firstly, it would be a matter of figuring out what they were to do about the dangerous vampires that now plagued their lands, and what measures were to be taken to protect the citizens of Lindon against further harm.

Then it would a matter of having to siphon through what little information that the strange elf had given, to try and make sense or connection of the unrest in the east and the sudden events in these lands. There was also the fact that they would have to come to a decision as to what to do with the aforementioned elf himself. That, the blond thought tiredly, would be another nightmare to sort out.

Glorfindel knew all too well that the chances of the elf being released easily would be quite slim, taking into account that there was another strange and foreign elf out there, and one that most definitely knew more about what was going on. He was even less likely to be allowed leave once everyone was made aware of the other elf's odd similarity to Elrond; a matter that the court was more than likely to find extremely suspicious.

His steps slowed as he neared the door to the meeting room, already hearing the buzz of voices from within and wanting nothing more than to turn around and retreat to his room. He had to take a steadying breath before he could force himself through the door, giving silent greetings to those he passed on his way in. He was grateful to see Elrond already present, speaking politely with the head healer who had also been made to attend.

The balrog-slayer sat quietly, taking his place in what had become his usual seat directly across from the king. He kept his eyes trained on the table in front of him, a desperate bid to avoid the looks the other elves always cast his way. It had been close to a decade since he had come to dwell in Lindon, and still, there were some who have not become used to his presence, and stared unabashedly when he neared. There were still those who distrusted him to varying degrees, Captain Dauchon being one of them. The other elf was always wary of everything he did, always the first to jump in protest at any of the balrog-slayer's decisions, or the first to criticize the outcomes of his actions.

It had been this way since he had arrived in the city with Cirdan, the older elf who had graciously offered to accompany the still disoriented, reborn warrior across the unknown lands. But even with the Lord of the Grey Havens at his side, the majority of the king's court, older captains and advisors alike, found reason to frown upon the blond elf. It was hardly like Glorfindel blamed them, understanding that those who served here, were those likely to have been around to witness the fall of several cities. The first age had been a dark time, and those who survived it, did not do so without some harshness.

Captain Dauchon, he had come to learn from Gil-Galad, had been training as a young warrior in Gondolin, when Morgoth's army had attacked. Glorfindel had felt his heart lighten to learn that one he now was to work closely with, had been one to survive the fall of the hidden city. He had thought, somewhat naively, that they would be able to find something like friendship between them.

But that hope had not lasted long, as it was clear that the other elf thought nothing friendly about him, and even seemed to resent his presence in the kingdom. Icy glares and stinging words had Glorfindel withdrawing his attempts at friendliness soon after arriving in the city. The blond had diminished their interactions to a minimum of civil interactions between two captains, and even then, the elf barely seemed to tolerate that. Though he had been sure that he had not done anything to insult the other, Glorfindel found that nearly all their interactions ended in insults and unpleasantries. He had tried hard not to take it personally, and to not be insulted, but the fall of hope so soon after arriving, had dampened his other experiences within the city, turning it's stone walls, cold and dull in the balrog-slayer's mind.

The only other person in the court who had survived Gondolin, was the old librarian Pengolodh, who had a wicked tongue and even more wicked sense of humor. Though the elf didn't show any true contempt for him, he was always far too busy to be companionable, even on his best days. From him, Glorfindel had learned that Galdor, his old friend and fellow lord from those golden days, had also survived the siege and the uncertain times afterwards. But his whereabouts had not been known for centuries now, and there was no sign of that changing soon. Even with news of the balrog-slayer's return, the other elf remained unheard of. That knowledge had weighed more on the blond elf than any of the other events he had faced since waking up in Valinor.

His lingering loneliness was not founded, he thought, angry with himself. It was not like he was hated, if anything, there was an overwhelming love for the blond that came from other citizens in Lindon. Where the members of the court were all too suspicious to trust him, the other elves of the kingdom, most of his own patrol guards included, looked up to him as nothing short of an idol. To them, the balrog-slayer was just that, the famed elf from the past, who was sent back to Middle Earth to save them all. It was uncanny, to have so many look at him with such high expectations.

Glorfindel closed his eyes against the headache that throbbed at his temples, trying to hide his discomfort as voices around him increased. Truly, all he wanted was to be alone, and yet he was stuck in a room full of others, whose loud voices and gestures caught annoyingly in the edge of his vision.

He stifled a sigh as he sunk further into his seat, raising his gaze to meet Elrond's from across the room. The other elf gave him the tiniest of smiles, reassurance reflecting in his eyes as he feigned interest in whatever the elves nearest to him were saying. Of all the people in the city, the Peredhel had been amongst the few who treated him no differently than if he were just another elf. In him, Glorfindel had found a friend, someone that did not cast judgement as quickly as the others did, and did not find reason to treat him differently. The blond had come to learn of the elf's upbringing, and could only wholly understand why he felt the need to find acceptance for others. He knew, that despite the king making the half-elven his herald and holding him in high esteem, that Elrond still faced his fair share of disdain from others among the court.

Propping his head up on a hand, the blond elf tried desperately to drag his attention back to the room and focus on the buzz of conversation around him. He noted that the king's advisors were all present, chattering idly amongst themselves and looking around curiously.

Perhaps, the balrog-slayer thought dimly, the increased heaviness in his head was due to the goblet of strong wine he had swallowed too quickly, having forgotten for a moment just how the powerful drink was. He would have to speak to Elrond about encouraging him to do so later, since it was he, after all, who had the drink sent to his room. Regardless, the golden-haired elf lifted his head as the king entered, pushing through the tiredness that hummed in his limbs.

"Hello everyone," Ereinion Gil-Galad called out as he sat at the head of the table, his strong voice silencing the room at once, "I thank you all for coming on such a short notice." He greeted the room solemnly, catching everyone's eyes in a show of respect to those who served him. Gil-Galad was nothing if not a kind and generous ruler, and he was well liked among the elves of the kingdom, even among the oldest members who had once held the belief that the king was too young and unexperienced to hold in good regard.

"My king," the head advisor began, "Why have we been called here so suddenly?" It was the question that everyone in the room shared, their silent nods and imploring glances confirming that.

The king gave a short nod, his clear eyes serious and darkened with worries as he took a breath. "Well, I firstly must inform you all of the events that have transpired since early this morning."

Glorfindel sat up straighter as the king recounted the morning's attack and the subsequent group he had sent to investigate. Everyone in the room listened intently, faces growing serious as the king explained how though the attack had not been lethal, the circumstances surrounding it, had raised incredible concern. As he spoke, Glorfindel took a cursory glance around the room, noting the frowning faces and confused looks. The healer near Elrond had a steely look on her face, eyes glinting darkly as she listened.

She was, he knew, someone who had seen the light of the trees, and though he could not remember which side she had served during the past age, it was reassuring to know the head healer was familiar with such creatures, and the injuries they could inflict.

As the king spoke, Glorfindel tried to wrap his head around the fact that the events of the day had transpired in merely one day. He snuck a glance at Elrond, who was seated nearest to the king and was listening intently, brow furrowed and eyes alight with concentration. He did a quick study of peredhel's features, again finding only tiniest traces of a resemblance to his old lords, his physical appearance holding little familiarity to Tuor and even less so to Turgon.

When he had arrived in Lindon, and had met the elf, Glorfindel was disappointed in the lack resemblance, feeling once again robbed of the chance to have some of reminder of his lost life. He had come to learn, that it was not the peredhel's appearance that would bear the familiarity of his former friends, but his stubborn attitude and sheer self-less disposition. In Elrond, the balrog-slayer saw a clear reminder of the goodness of the elven lines of old. And he had also found he was an elf he was more than willing to serve.

He had not thought much of the other's appearance since then, understanding that he must take after his mother's side, and not truly caring to learn more. That was, of course, until today.

It was still a shock to think of the other elf in the woods, so passingly similar to his friend that he had, for a moment, actually believed that Elrond had been there among them. But it was the other's eyes that had revealed the difference, for the elf's eyes were harsher, and darkened with something icy, something that he had yet to see in the peredhel's own grey gaze.

Glorfindel felt unease flush through his veins, as he thought of the strange, yet familiar elf. He was still unsure as to how he would bring about such a thing or when it would be best to do so. He gave himself a quiet reprimand for his inability to think clearly, once again resenting this feeling of being unbalanced, of being so out of tune with the people around him that he could not trust their reactions, nor predict them. It had never taken him so long to find the clear path to follow, nor had he ever had reason to doubt what the right thing to do was. But after having been returned to Middle Earth, Glorfindel had found it harder to explain himself and his actions to others, and it was something that many around him did not appreciate.

He had to restrain a sigh that had build up in his lungs, letting a breath out slowly instead, and moving his eyes back to watch the king.

"It seems," Gil-Galad continued, "that our attempts to find what has been the cause of such troublesome events, has lead to many more questions for us." He caught the blond's eye and have a short nod, "I sent Captain Glorfindel to investigate, and what he has encountered is beyond what we could have expected." With those words the king gestured for the balrog-slayer to say his piece, all eyes turning to him expectantly. The blond nodded solemnly, "Yes, it is as the king has said."

He moved to sit up straighter, "When we went out to the woods this morning we found traces of the earlier attack, but nothing else to indicate what could have caused it." Taking a breath, Glorfindel dove into the day's events, slowly and in detail.

It wasn't until he neared the end of it all, that he realized he had told all in good honesty, except he had excluded a major point of the tale. Though he explained the presence of the strange elves of the east, the balrog-slayer had easily omitted any mention of the older one's remarkable familiarity to one of their own.

Something in him had stopped him from sharing this information out right, and despite his own shock at having done so, Glorfindel had learned long ago to follow his instincts. He finished explaining what he had learned from the day, silently deciding he will tell the king later, when he could expect rational reactions.

"Needless to say," he paused for a breath, "we are now faced with the reality that there are vampires in our lands, and that they are, to my belief, the cause for the patrol's attack." A stifling silence settled in the room as the balrog-slayer looked at the faces around him. In the sea of concerned expressions, Gil-Galad and Elrond shared looks of deep and troubled concentration, while the others looked unnerved and fearful. Captain Dauchon's eyes were darkened with something unreadable, his arms crossed against his chest as he stared directly at the balrog-slayer. "Are you certain of this?"

Though he had expected the other elf to question anything he said, the captain's accusing voice did little for Glorfindel's throbbing head. "I cannot say with absolute certainty, for I was neither there and no one who was got a good look at the attacker, but," he held the elf's gaze, "I was there when those things attacked my own guards, and I saw what they were capable of. I am convinced it was them."

"But you can't be _certain_." The other elf challenged, eyes harsh in the flicker of the fireplace. Glorfindel refused to frown, and though he wanted to badly, he held his tongue against the angry words that rose in his mind. Thankfully, Gil-Galad intervened, turning to where the solemn healer sat, "Lady Nestril, would you say that the injuries of officers from this morning were similar to those that the officer this evening received?"

The healer turned her ageless eyes to the king, nodding the slightest bit before answering, "Yes, the pattern and depth of the scratches match up well." She turned to Glorfindel, "I would say you are correct in assuming the attacks were done by these, _vampires_." The sneer in her voice was as clear as the fire in her eyes.

The blond nodded his thanks to her, turning his silent attention towards the king once more. Gil-Galad nodded silently too, his usually relaxed face turned down in unease. It was silent for a moment longer, and the blond waited patiently for anyone else to speak, preparing himself for the onslaught of questions he was sure to receive. The first to break the silence, did so after the shuffling robes, and a nervous clearing of his throat, "Is there is no indication as to why these creatures are here now?"

"No," the blond elf started with a slow shake of his head. "They have appeared just as suddenly as any of this started."

It was Gil-Galad himself who spoke up next, "Do you not believe that the appearance of these vampires is related to the presence of these two elves?" He watched Glorfindel with clear eyes and the balrog-slayer gave his head a solid shake.

"I agree that it seems is suspicious, and the elf did tell me that a darkness seems to be seeping into those lands." he spoke steadily, "But I do not believe that the elf I brought in even knew about the vampires until today. He seemed very surprised to learn of them. That being said," he continued quickly, knowing that any pause would leave him open to scrutiny, "I have much reason to believe that the other elf knows more than the one we have in custody, or any of us for that matter."

He looked over to the others in the room, unnerved with their uncharacteristic silence, before turning towards Gil-Galad again. "There is the simple matter of what the elf told me…" Glorfindel trailed off, not entirely sure how to explain what the strange, dark-haired elf had said. The king nodded slightly towards Glorfindel, urging him to speak.

"The strange one mentioned a sense of unease in his lands, which he said was similar to what he has felt here." He frowned at the memory, "And I must admit that I myself have felt a subtle dread in these last few days. Like a nagging feeling at the back of my mind." The blond looked over to Elrond, knowing he had spoken to the peredhel about this feeling before.

"I had thought, perhaps even hoped, that this feeling was just in myself. But it seems there are others who feel it too." He caught Elrond's eye, seeing the understanding cross his face.

"You made no mention of this unease to any of us, Captain." Glorfindel didn't need to turn around to know who had spoken, and he merely shook his head once again, though he didn't get the chance to speak,

"Like he said," Elrond spoke, "He had thought it to be but a fancy of his mind, though I too admit that I have shared a similar feeling." The others in the room turned to the king's herald as he continued.

"I only mentioned this to Glorfindel because he spoke to me of his own foreboding, but I too thought we were perhaps only building off of one another's anxieties."

Glorfindel would have been touched by the peredhel's defense of him, if it weren't for the fact that now the majority of the king's court would be as wary of the herald as they were of the balrog-slayer.

"Regardless of this," he started before anyone else could jump in. "We have someone here to question about how this darkness could have traveled from the east to these lands." His attempt to redirect the conversation was scowled at by the king's head advisor, though he decided to concede for now.

"And of these elves from the east," the advisor asked stiffly, "Only one was managed to be brought here?" there was some edge of accusation in the elf's voice, and though the disdain bordering on reluctant trust was an all too common occurrence, it never failed to amaze Glorfindel when it was so blatantly expressed towards him. As if he was at fault for not apprehending both flighty elves while one of his guards was injured in a potentially fatal way. He bit back the biting remark he was so tempted to voice, choosing instead to explain in a calm voice,

"Yes, only one of those elves stuck around long enough for it to be a possibility." He ran a hand through his hair, "We are lucky that we even have one of them here to tell us more. The strange one would have ran fast and far if he had known this is where he would have ended up."

"So we should be thanking this elf for being so generous to come here willingly." It was Dauchon who spoke now, his voice angry and eyes sparking in agitation. Glorfindel looked him straight on, too tired to try to deal with the accusations and anger directed towards him.

"You are so busy trying to find holes in my story, when you should be focusing on the situation on hand." His voice was stern, eyes staring steadily at the other, "I have told you what has occurred already, and if there are question you have, then they are questions I share as well." He let a slow breath out, "I advise we continue to put our efforts towards figuring out what is going on, rather than trying to pinpoint what it is I have done wrong."

He was usually never one to be so forward, but he was much too tired at the moment to care for continued pleasantries, his head throbbing and patience wearing thin.

"Let us not fight one another," Gil-Galad interjected sternly, "Our questions and concerns are well founded, but we cannot lay blame among ourselves for the lack of answers we are facing." He swept his gaze across the room and nodded solemnly at the silence. "We need some answers as soon as we can get them, as we cannot keep the city walls closed forever, and those vampires certainly did not just show up out of the blue. It is no coincidence that they are here as well as these elves, and if we are going to find out why, we need to work together."

In the silence that followed, Glorfindel found himself grateful for the king's good nature toward him, his high regard of the reborn warrior was probably one of the only reasons he had been allowed to remain in Lindon, let alone take command of some of the city's warriors. Gil-Galad had taken easily to the balrog-slayer's presence, though the blond was certain that Cirdan's influence had much to do with that. Whatever the reason, he was grateful, though the quick rush of appreciation faded quickly when Captain Dauchon broke the silence.

"Shall we bring the elf before us? Or shall he remain in holding while we question him?" His voice was all business, almost eager at the prospect of having someone to rightfully direct his anger towards. Most of the time, Glorfindel reluctantly admired the elf's aggressive and strong willed nature, knowing that it made the other a capable captain. But at other times, especially now, the elf's steadfast intensity drew tension into situations that could really do without.

He shook his head tiredly, feeling his patience slipping more and more, "An interrogation wont work on this elf. Force will get us nowhere, and neither is it a way we must be so quick to turn to."

The other elf's eyes turned angrily towards him, "And how would you go about getting anything from him?" The captain asked, crossing his arms across his chest in a familiar defiance against Glorfindel, "Perhaps you have a better idea, considering you managed to get so much useful information from him already." There was pure disdain in his voice, eyes glinting harshly in the flickering of the fireplace.

The blond grit his teeth, clenching his fists as tried to keep his temper in check. "I'm not saying that I believe the elf's words entirely," Glorfindel snapped, "What I am saying is that he seemed more than willing to talk, if approached sincerely. My force and intimidation only elicited fear and insults, and I am certain that more of that is going to get you nowhere."

Dauchon glared at him, and though he backed off, there was enough ice in his gaze to let Glorfindel know just how badly the other thought of him at the moment. A sigh from Gil-Galad brought both captains' attentions back to the rest of the room, "I have a feeling this is not going to be easy." The king motioned for his advisor, "Have the guards bring this elf here, and tell him we are going to have a civil conversation, and try to sort this mess out."

As the advisor left to do just that, Glorfindel felt his headache threaten to worsen, the mere thought of sitting through the questioning to come sending a spike of pain through his head. He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, just managing to stop the groan that built up in his throat. He wanted this blasted day to be over already, and yet it seemed as if it would never end.

A gentle hand on his shoulder brought his attention to the elf who had moved to his side, and he looked up to Elrond's concerned face.

"Is your head still hurting?" he asked in a quiet voice, mindful of the others still in the room, "You should have said so, I would have had something stronger sent to you." Despite his sincere voice, Glorfindel could just make out the joking edge in those words. He feigned a glare, sitting up straighter as he took a hold of himself again.

"Believe me," he said seriously, "When you are done dealing with this elf, you will have a headache to match my own."

"Do you think it will be that bad?" Elrond scrunched his face and Glorfindel bit back a scoff.

"Oh it will be a nightmare," he smiled with no mirth, and though he would try harder to escape the situation, perhaps even use his aching head as a reason to excuse himself, the blond found that he was undeniably curious to see how these serious, stern advisors would react to the wily and blunt strange one.

"Please, you two," Gil-Galad's tired voice interrupted their short lived chatter, "Do not make things worse than they already are." The balrog-slayer shot an apologetic glance at the king, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, no doubt already nursing a headache of his own.

The doors opened before he could give voice to his apology, and every pair of eyes turned to the watch as the guards walked in, escorting the dark-haired stranger into the room. Remarkably, the elf held his tongue, and Glorfindel watched intently as the other took in his surroundings in cautious silence. He had stopped just inside the room, a good distance before the table, and even with prompting from the guards on either side, the elf refused to come closer, dark eyes flicking from face to face. The blond elf could sense the others watching the stranger, judgement heavy in their silence.

Glorfindel noticed the minute widening of the other's eyes when his gaze fell upon Elrond, though the elf managed to restrain his shock this time, looking away quickly lest his reaction be noticed. But the blond _had_ noticed, and once again, he was reminded of what he had yet to share with the king and the others, and he was was all too aware of the whirlwind of trouble that the late confession would bring. He just hoped this elf would not beat him to revealing such information.

After a moment, the elf settled his eyes on Glorfindel himself, a silent accusation flashing across his face as he straightened his shoulders. The balrog-slayer stared back, trying hard to convey his advice that the other behave. A quick flicker of irritation played on the other's face, before his attention was dragged towards Gil-Galad as the king began speaking.

"Welcome," he spoke, polite and diplomatic as always, "I do regret that our meeting is under such, unsavory circumstances, but I hope you understand the need for such measures."

The elf tipped his head, brow furrowing in confusion at the sincerity in the king's words. He spared a quick glance towards Glorfindel before looking back at the king, giving his head the smallest of nods.

"I understand the need, though I do not appreciate it…" dark brows furrowed further, "But I certainly do not understand what more help you expect me to be."

To Glorfindel's surprise, everyone else held their silence, possibly stunned by the curtesy in the other's voice. Gil-Galad gave a smooth nod as he straightened in his seat. He kept his shoulders poised but relaxed, letting his posture portray his strength, while maintaining a calm face, not meaning to be outwardly threatening.

"I see how this can be confusing," the king's voice was steady, "But I have come to understand that you are not from these lands, and given recent events," the words were drawn out slowly, "I am inclined to be thorough with any leads we may have."

Dark eyes blinked at the king, though the strange elf's face gave little away. Gil-Galad waved an elegant hand, motioning calmly to the other, "We want nothing more than the truth, and your cooperation would be greatly appreciated." He nodded to the elf, who watched with guarded eyes. "But let me not get ahead of myself," he put a hand to his chest, "I am Ereinion Gil-Galad, King of the Noldor. You, are currently standing in Lindon, the last great city in what is left of the sunken lands."

Glorfindel tried not to fidget in the tense silence that followed, brought on by the dark-haired elf's long pause. Gil-Galad cleared his throat and motioned his hand towards the elf, "And you are?" he prompted. The dark-haired elf hesitated a moment longer, eyes darting about the room before he answered. "I am Erestor," he said haltingly, "I'm from the east."

The king speared the balrog-slayer with a look, an eyebrow raised for confirmation. The blond elf gave a nod, "That's what he told me." The Noldo nodded, turning his attention back to the strange elf.

"Alright, Erestor of the East," he started again, "Captain Glorfindel has keyed us in to the events of your encounter," the elf's dark eyes flicked to the blond's face in a nervous glance. "We want to know the details from your side, to fill in the holes in our knowledge."

"That seems a bit redundant, no?" the elf voiced quietly. Regardless, the king leaned forward, "We need you to tell us how you came to be here, and what may have driven those foul vampires to follow with you."

This time the elf's face did scrunch in a confused look, head tilting slightly. "I came to these lands by accident," he gave a short huff, "and as for the vampires, I had no knowledge of what they were and they certainly didn't follow me." There was a pause, and when the dark-haired elf didn't continue, the king's head advisor interjected, "What do you mean, they didn't follow you?"

Irritation touched the elf's features as he turned towards the voice, "I mean precisely what I said. Since I even left the east, I have felt their presence ahead of me, but nothing else. If anything, I followed them here."

There was hardly a pause before the advisor spoke again, "Are you saying that you sensed the vampires this whole time? You claim to not have known about them, and yet you _felt_ their presence?" The advisor's voice rose just above a conversational tone.

"Well I didn't know _what_ they were." came the defensive words, "But yes, I suppose you can say that I knew of them for a while." The advisor hummed, and it was haughty noise, his disbelief clear in the low sound. Glorfindel watched as the strange elf frowned, tension clear in the harsh lines of his body and the stiff hold of his shoulders.

"It does seem a little strange," added another, "that you could feel these dark beings, especially if you did not have any interaction with them."

The dark-haired elf raised his head, eyes glinting, "Well it was rather hard to ignore such a thing, especially when the trees and the land are so affected by it."

The head advisor scoffed, "Ah yes, the trees," he drawled, "such a typical behavior of the _Avari_." The strange elf stiffened, and Glorfindel cursed the tactless nature of the king's advisors, feeling his head throb behind his eyes.

"And ignorance seems to be typical of you Noldor." The dark-haired elf ground out, eyes narrowing dangerously, "Is it usual that you to insult those you seek help from?"

"You seem to be under the impression that your cooperation here is optional," Dauchon spoke suddenly, his strong voice surprising the elf, who whipped his head around to the captain. Despite the fear that crossed his face, the impetuous one spat angrily, "Well you must not know the definition of _cooperation._ "

Gil-Galad held a hand out to intervene, "We are not here to fight one another," he added quickly, turning a stern gaze to his captain, "there is plenty of trouble in these lands already, and we need focus on trying to resolve one issue without creating another." He turned back the the dark-haired stranger, "Please," he nodded, "do excuse the short tempers in this room, but it has been a rather eventful day."

The elf didn't respond, but merely watched the high-king with steady eyes. Gil-Galad sighed, exasperation just barely creeping into the sound. "Do tell us," he tried again, "Everything you can about your encounter in the woods." It took a moment, the silence punctuated by the quiet crackling of the fireplace, but eventually the elf spoke again, his voice tired and reluctant "Where do you want me to begin?"

Gil-Galad nodded, leaning against the backrest of his chair, "Tell us what brought you here, and then your of your interaction with the vampires today."

* * *

Sunlight was filtering through the window by the time the questions died down, and Glorfindel's head was absolutely ringing, his vision swimming if he let himself lose focus for even a moment. The others in the room looked just as peaked, though they were possibly faring better than he was at the moment.

"I already told you," the dark-haired elf ground out, the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, "I don't know why the vampires are here, nor do I have any indication as to where they came from."

The head advisor groaned his frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "But there must be _something_ that could give us an clearer understanding of their sudden appearance."

This time, the strange elf growled, throwing his hands up in frustration, "Why don't you go out there and ask them, then!"

Glorfindel was well and truly at his wits end, his patience ground thin by the irksome voices of the others around him. The stung advisor muttered something low under his breath, and he leaned closer, probably to reprimand the insolence of the other, when thankfully, _blessedly,_ Glorfindel thought in relief, Gil-Galad cleared his throat decidedly, "I think," he said tiredly, "that we are done here."

It was like the entirety of the room released a tense breath, and the balrog-slayer let his eyes slip close for a moment, relishing in the respite. He heard the subtle shifting of scrolls and robes around him, opening his eyes only when he heard the king speak again. "We have a lot to consider. We shall continue this at a later time."

"What!?" Glorfindel heard the incredulous gasp, catching the movement as the strange elf whipped his heard up, "What do you _mean at a later time_?"

There was a critical tone in his voice, his dark eyes seeking the king's gaze intensely. "I can't stay here." His words were steady, but underlined with urgency, "You can't make me stay here."

"I believe we can," someone interjected, clearing their throat, "You will find that _we_ will decide when we are through with you." Glorfindel didn't bother to turn towards the voice, finding that he didn't actually care to identify it. "You can expect to be questioned until we are satisfied."

The dark-haired stranger opened his mouth to say something, but he was quickly interrupted by the king's steady voice. "I understand how unpleasant this situation is," his voice was strong despite the long hours just spent in questioning, "But you will remain here until further notice. At least until we can sort ourselves out of this current situation."

Glorfindel watched as the other elf's shoulders visibly sagged, dark eyes losing focus as he turned his gaze towards the window. Though he looked dejected, the balrog-slayer could see the tight clench of the other's jaw, and knew that this compliance was only temporary.

Gil-Galad caught the blond's eye, the simple look holding many questions. The balrog-slayer was immediately snapped into focus, feeling his mind sharpen as he gave a short nod towards the king. The elf nodded back, the movement nearly imperceptible, before he turned to address the others in the room.

As he did so, Glorfindel focused back on the strange elf, taking in the sight of him as the elf quietly continued to stare at the window. His face was pale, a scratch on his cheek standing out against the skin and dirt smudged faintly in random places. The balrog-slayer noticed the elf's fingers toying with the torn sleeve of his tunic, mindlessly turning over the threads as he stood deep in thought. The blond noticed as well, the rough bandage around the elf's arm, darkened with blood that had seeped through some time ago. He could understand why the other was less than agreeable and more irritable than he had been in the woods, as he was probably feeling a heightened agitation because of the wound.

The elf noticed him watching and stiffened some, hands falling idly to his sides as he held the blond's gaze. Glorfindel wondered what would happen next, what decisions Gil-Galad and his council would come to, once they deliberated over what they had learned. He also knew things were far from over.

He had yet to divulge his knowledge of the other elf's appearance, and this elf had also skillfully omitted any mention of it. The strange one had kept a careful eye on the balrog-slayer and his reactions as he had recounted the events. He had made no mention of the surprise that had struck them both about his brother's appearance, and he had even looked directly at Elrond as he had spoken of the other elf, maintaining a neutral expression as he did so.

There had been a silent defiance in those eyes then, a subtle light and quirk of a dark brow that challenged the ancient warrior to interject with the truth. When he hadn't done just that, the dark gaze had turned questioning, occasionally flicking over to where the balrog-slayer sat. Neither of them had brought up the one missing piece of the story, and it was obvious that the other knew of Glorfindel's omission. Now the stranger watched him quietly, a guarded confusion upon his face that almost felt like an accusation.

It all still left him with the burden of bringing up this particularly difficult situation later, and he had yet to decide how he would do such a thing.

"We shall gather again soon," Gil-Galad's voice broke through his thoughts, "Thank you all for coming." He motioned that all were dismissed, and everyone made to stand. The guards that had brought the elf in began to move, ready to take the strange one back to where he had been held. Glorfindel spoke quickly, catching the room, and himself, by surprise, with his words, "My king, if I can have a word with you." he motioned towards the strange elf, "Preferably with him present."

All eyes fell on him, but he kept his gaze firmly on Gil-Galad, hoping that the king would see the urgency in his demeanor. The other elf looked at him for a moment, brows furrowed as he spoke, "Is all well, Captain Glorfindel?"

The blond elf was never not taken aback by the other's genuine concern and consideration for those he spoke to. He gave his head a minute shake, "All is well," he reassured, "But there are just a few details I mean to work through with you."

The king's clear eyes held his for a moment, before he nodded, "Very well." He motioned for the guards to leave the elf where he stood and Glorfindel caught the strange one's flickering eyes. Uncertainty flashed across the elf's face as the others in the room slowly made for the door. They wore varying expressions on their faces, ranging from confused curiosity, to irritated glares, but none stopped to question him, though a few did shoot him suspicious looks.

Glorfindel stayed rooted to his spot as they left, advisors and council members bowing their goodbyes to the king as they exited the room. Elrond was looking at him, his eyes shining in question as he stood still by Gil-Galad's side. The blond gave him a short nod, knowing that the peredhel would understand that he was to remain as well. The king seemed to read the situation, glancing briefly between his herald and the blond, before patting Elrond's arm and motioning him to sit.

Dauchon had caught the movement, body tensing and eyes hardening as he realized the silent agreement between the three. The elf remained silent even as he slowly made to exit the chamber, and as much as Glorfindel loathed to, he called out quietly before the other could leave, "Captain Dauchon," the elf froze with his hand on the door, looking back at the blond, "I believe it is important that you stay for this too."

The captain watched him for a moment, holding himself perfectly still before finally giving a short nod and coming back to stand as he had before. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard as the remaining elves settled in the newly emptied room.

Glorfindel found that he had yet to decide how he was to explain himself to the others. _If it were an easy thing to do_ , the blond mused quietly, _I would have done so already_.

He heaved a heavy sigh, raising his eyes to meet those of the others before simply beginning to speak, "I have held you all back because there is something I must tell you." He looked over to the strange elf still standing near the head of the table, "Something we both failed to mention until now." Four pairs of eyes met his own, three silently imploring him for more, the other glaring for all that the dark gaze was worth.

"I did not say this in front of the others because, quite frankly, I did not know how quite to put it," his tongue felt strangely clumsy, unable to articulate what it is he wanted to say. "The other elf who managed to distract the vampires and run into the woods…he-" he turned fully to the peredhel, "he looks very much like you, Elrond, and the sight was- well, it was off putting to say the least."

A slow look of shock crossed the elf's face, confusion creasing the dark brows as he opened his mouth only to close it when no sound came out. The balrog-slayer continued, not willing to let anyone get a word in before he was done explaining. "It was the most uncanny thing, this elf."

He shook his head, he glanced at the others around him, "I only caught sight of him for a moment, but even that was enough to realize the resemblance." The blond pinched the bridge of his nose, "And even though he too only just caught sight of myself, he certainly seemed to know me," he paused minutely, "Or at least, fear me."

The memory of the searing panic flashing in the elf's eyes was all too clear in the balrog-slayer's mind. "Even more so, Erestor here agrees, that this resemblance is not made up by some fancy of my mind." He waved a hand at the strange elf, who remained stock still, trepidation dominating his features.

Glorfindel sighed, shoulders lowering with exhaustion as he fought against the desire to hunch in on himself. "This, I could not bring myself to say in front of the others, and thought it wise to share with only a few first." He saw the dark flash in Dauchon's eyes, knowing already that the other elf will find this unacceptable. "In all honesty, I do not know what to make of it."

He swept his gaze to the king, catching the questions in his eyes though Gil-Galad said nothing. The other captain was the one to break the silence, stepping closer as he ground out, "This is something that should have been shared before!" He swept his blazing eyes across the room, "It is something that complicates things even further, and we all had a right to know." The angry elf settled his burning eyes on Glorfindel, "How dare you think you could conceal such a thing."

Before the reborn warrior could respond, Dauchon whirled to the strange elf, "And you," he stalked over to the other, "You kept this from us as well, why? And what else are you hiding, what else have you lied about?" The other elf backed away, face paling even as he glared at the other.

"If he was not going to bring it up," he motioned to Glorfindel, "Than neither was I. I have no obligation to mention something that could affect my brother and-" The captain did not relent, "We have no time for your meaningless misdirection!" he snapped, stepping forward as his short patience frayed, "You are going to tell us everything that you may have left out, no matter how insignificant a detail may seem, you will tell us all."

The shorter elf clenched his fists, and growled out through gritted teeth, "I have already shared all else I know. Do forgive my omission, _captain,_ " his voice was venomous, "but I would not sell out my family to a crowd of complete strangers."

Dauchon turned, eyes blazing as they settled on the balrog-slayer, "You see that," he waved a hand to the other elf, "You are so willing to trust that he speaks the truth that _you_ would misdirect us as well." He glared at the blond, "You have proven yourself just as untrustworthy as this _Avari_ here."

Glorfindel tensed, his anger rising before he could check himself, "It was not malice that lead me to conceal this," he glared at the other, fists clenched, "It was the need for tact that made me choose as such. _Tact_ which is something you should learn how to use." The other elf merely sneered at the blond, as if the explanation was only another poor excuse in his ears. "It is as you said," the blond continued roughly, "this certainly complicates things, but to what degree, we are unsure. And given the sensitive nature of things, and everything else we are yet to understand, it would not do well to have everyone jumping to poor conclusions and settling blame on the wrong people."

He glared heatedly at the other elf, "Gauging from your reaction, it seems I have made the right choice." The balrog-slayer turned his attention back to Elrond and Gil-Galad, refusing to spend more time trying to argue with the other captain.

"Please believe that I meant no harm in keeping this hidden until now," he looked at the two elves, hoping his sincerity was clear in his eyes, "This is such a thing that I have never dealt with before, and given everything else that has happened," he stopped to take a breath, hating how very little explanation he had, "it just felt like the most appropriate course of action."

His words gave way to silence, and the balrog-slayer was all too aware of the loud pounding in his ears and the looks the other elves were giving him. Gil-Galad furrowed his brow after a moment, breathing a sigh and rubbing a hand across his face as he leaned forward, "Glorfindel," he forewent titles, "I have trusted your judgement thus far, and while I agree that this is something that should be shared with everyone else, I also understand why it is you saw the need to wait on it."

Though his words were reassuring, the blond felt far from relieved. He felt worry prickle in his chest, even as the king's attention shifted from him to the strange elf who had intelligently held his tongue until now. "As for your decision to hold out on information," Gil-Galad spoke sternly, "I can only say that it strengthens our resolve to be extra cautious. Though I do regret the need for this, you will be staying in the holding cells until further notice."

The elf held the king's eye, head held steady as he commented lowly, "I suppose that is only fair, though, you should call it for what it is." He tipped his head, "you're going to have me stay in your dungeons. Until further notice." Gil-Galad frowned, a genuinely look of insult flashing across his face. "They are hardly dungeons, for I am not that cruel."

"A cell is a cell." The strange elf said lowly, closing his expression off and refusing further conversation. The high-king watched the stranger for a moment longer, and Glorfindel was too tired to try deciphering the look upon his face.

"We have much to consider and much discuss later." Gil-Galad sighed as he finally turned his attention back to the room. "These next few days are going to be critical in our endeavors to settle this situation." He stood in a fluid movement, speaking as he walked to the doors, "Go about your duties, and make sure the gates remain closed and that no one gets outside."

As Gil-Galad opened to doors and addressed the waiting guards, Glorfindel took a quick look at the others in the room. Dauchon's eyes were hard yet unfocused, staring unseeingly at a point above the fireplace, while Elrond had a concerned look upon his face. The peredhel briefly caught the balrog-slayer's eyes, though looked away quickly, as if he were afraid of what the golden elf might find.

They all watched as the guards entered to escort the strange elf back into holding. The dark-haired stranger held himself stiffly, and though he went easily, there was a dark gleam in his eyes that let Glorfindel know, they would be hard pressed to find any easy help form this elf.

As they made to leave the room, the dark-haired elf stumbled, staggering into the guard closest to him as his foot caught on the end of the carpet. He grumbled something in language unknown to them and shook his arm free of the one who had caught him. "Wait," Elrond said quickly, standing to move to the stranger, "let me see to your arm before you go." He reached out to take the other's injured limb, but the elf twisted away with a scowl.

"I need no favors from you." He growled, turning quickly to walk away, leaving the guards no choice but to follow.

Glorfindel watched them leave, moving to stand next to the peredhel, "Don't mind that," he said lightly, "I'm sure he's just having a bad day, like the rest of us."

Elrond remained silent, not gracing the blond with words, though he turned exasperated eyes towards him. The familiar, good natured glare settled some of the anxiety in the older elf's belly. "What a horrible day, indeed." said the peredhel with a shake of his head.

"Please," the king spoke from behind them, "Let us leave this room at once." Gil-Galad held the door open, motioning for the other elves to exit. He stopped Glorfindel with a strong hand on his shoulder, "I want you to take the rest of the day for yourself." He watched him pointedly, "I don't want to see or hear about you even going near the training grounds today." His serious words were left no room for argument, and gratefully, the ancient warrior nodded. He would be lost if it weren't for the careful consideration of those few friends around him.

He exited, uttering a quick farewell to Elrond as he hurried down the hall and back to his long awaited bedroom.

* * *

 **This chapter was hard. But all is well.**

 **A few definitions below:**

 ** _Galdor_ \- was an elf in Gondolin, the Lord of the House of the Tree and quite possibly one of Glorfindel's good friends from back in the day. He is said to have survived the fall of the city and the later attack in Sirion, and and quite possibly said to still be around later when he was sent to Rivendell. **

_**Avari**_ **\- Name the elves who refused the original journey into the West. Those 'dark elves' who lingered in the eastern parts of Midle-Earth while the others traveled away to the undying lands. I imagine this term being used as one of** **disdain and disrespect.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the very long wait. October had not been a kind month to me, I hope it was much better for you all.**

 **Thanks to all who read and again, I do not own anything and just as a note:**

 **There's so little information on the East in Tolkien's writing, and even what little I could find seemed to be contradictory or even blatantly made up for games and roleplaying. As much as I would love to do deeper research on the topic, time just does not allow it. Just know that what information I am using in this story comes from various maps and small sites I have found across the internet. I try to connect the pieces together as best I can, but of course, it's not perfect.**

* * *

Empty echoes bounced off the walls, and Erestor had to force back the shudder that threatened to run through him. In the stifling silence, everything felt louder than it should have, and even his pacing footsteps seemed to slap against the floor. _Stone prison_ , he thought harshly as he kicked at a loose rock, cringing at the sharp sound of it ricocheting off the wall.

The fact that the Noldor King had refused to call this place a dungeon, seemed like a delusional denial to the dark-haired elf, for this place was every bit as dismal as he had ever seen. Underground, even if only a few short staircases below the surface, Erestor could not help but feel dangerously smothered, suffocated and cut off from the outside world and all lively things. Glaring at nothing, he continued to pace, feeling anger bubble tiredly within him from his earlier interactions with the elves of this kingdom. He had hated their smug expressions and demanding voices, the condescension in their actions had made him bristle, and he especially despised the way they spoke in circles. The roundabout questions and accusations they had thrown at him had wasted time that could have been better used in reaching a _real_ understanding. But instead, they had gotten nowhere, and he had been all but dismissed, as if his words meant nothing to those who had already decided to distrust him.

He had not expected much, having known before hand that the elves of these lands were cautious of outsiders and likely to react badly to such disturbances. He had not had high expectations, but neither did he expect to be dismissed and cast away so quickly, with the haste and unfairness usually associated with the _wild ones_ of the east. That wasn't the way all people dealt with strangers across Rhûn, though in some places the dangers rang true, it was not so everywhere and only true for the remote and distant nomadic peoples in the far plains. And truly, these elves thought that the eastern world was savage, as if they had any reason to overlook their own bloodied histories.

Erestor knew he had not made things better for himself, what with his stinging words and reluctant compliance, but he could not simply allow them to treat him so brusquely. It had been infuriating, trying to get past the accusing and repetitive questions, and even then it was high near impossible to get a word in once they motioned for him to speak. He had only been able to haltingly explain himself, explain where he had come from, _why_ he had come here, and so on. There had been too many voices and too much authority warring within the room for the elf to voice his true concerns and those of the blue wizards. He had not been able to tell them what the Istari had told him last, for he had had no clue how to even phrase it, and the elves within that room had already seemed enraged by his presence. He had no clue what the reaction would have been like, if he had been to drag talk of wizards into the conversation. He had not missed the angry scowls and tense air even as they had turned to the balrog slayer for input, the advisor who had done so, speaking in a reluctant and disdained filled voice. He had hardly spent a day within these walls and even then, Erestor could see clearly that these elves did not appreciate things they could not explain or understand.

A painful pull from his arm dragged him out of his darkening thoughts, forced to remember the throbbing bite that still marred his skin. He forced a breath through his nose, trying to find the calm that had eluded him all day. Erestor knew his frustrations were heightened in his injured state, and he felt precious time slip away from him cruelly, lost to each moment he remained in the cell. The longer he waited for the haughty advisors to delegate on what they believed to be true, the further away from answers he got and the worse the situation became for everyone. The one hope he had latched on to ever since he had set off from his lands was fleeting now more than ever.

If only he had been smart and ran off the moment he had had a chance, then perhaps he would be fairing better, or at the very least, he would be free and in control, not trapped within stone walls and left in the dark. Erestor would almost risk another encounter with a vicious vampire, if it meant he would be free from these cold walls.

 _Almost_ , the dark-haired elf thought as he ceased his pacing, fingers reaching for the fabric tied around his arm. He had almost forgotten about the injury throughout the night, having been too preoccupied in his anger and dealings with the others to think of a scratch. The hyper focus that gripped him as he stood before those old elves had distracted him from the pain of the bite, and had even numbed it away for a while. But now, he felt the throbbing exhaustion that waited at the edge of his senses, and the burning ache that traveled along his arm, weighing it down painfully.

He kicked feebly at the stone again, watching it skid across the room and disappear into a darkened corner. Perhaps he should not have rejected the other elf's offer to see to the injury, he thought as he cradled his arm close, as it may have seemed in bad taste and was, an obviously stupid decision for anyone to see. Injured and still bleeding, he had made himself a weakened target, but, he thought quietly, it had not been without good reason. He would not be here for much longer, he thought gratefully, for he had successfully slipped a key off of the guard that had stumbled into as he left the king's meeting room.

He ran a finger over the stiff ridges of the key, the metal warm from where he had hidden it up his sleeve. It had been surprisingly easy, to swipe the key from unsuspecting the guard, stumbling into him with enough discordance to have been able to hide his true intentions. It had been luck too, that the look-a-like elf had provided ample enough distraction closely after his falter to cover up any suspicions. It was a risky and foolish thing to have attempted in a room full of elves that already distrusted him, but he had been desperate for any sense of control. He had seen his only opportunity to save himself, and he had taken it.

The slim key sat heavy in his hand, and relief warmed him at the sight. It made everything more bearable to know that he was not completely helpless, and at the very least he had some kind of route to escape when the time called for it. He just needed to bid his time wisely, but waiting in idle silence had never been something the elf was good at. Erestor tucked his key away, and thought of how he toed the edge of a decision that could very likely turn against his favor. The silence pressed around him, muffling his senses as the stuffiness of the cell started to sedate him. It made Erestor feel fuzzy minded yet frantic, and he was suddenly aware of how much time had passed since he had last allowed himself to rest.

He released a sigh, forcing himself to take a deep, long-drawn breath through his nose. The still rational part of his mind reminded him that hasty decisions were exactly what had gotten him into this situation, and that he needed to step back, calm his wildly beating heart and get a grip on his thoughts before acting.

And first thing was first; he needed to see to his bloody arm.

The limb was throbbing mercilessly again, and the dark-haired elf felt his jaw clench as he took the few, shaky steps toward the stiff looking cot that waited innocently in the room. He sat heavily, his legs aching as they finally got to rest, and cradled his wounded arm close to him. He sat for a moment, eyes closed as he steeled his thoughts, preparing himself for what he had to deal with. Erestor started unwrapping the hastily made bandage, wincing as it pulled against areas that had dried down. He grit his teeth as the last of the wrapping fell away, reveling the ugly, aching wound beneath,

His arm was a mess of blood, shredded skin and torn fabric, the soiled material sticking stubbornly to his skin in some places, while slopping off messily in others. The low light dancing from the torches did not help with the appearance of the wound, casting sickly shadows across the jagged injury, and making the wet blood look black against his bruising arm. He groaned quietly, staring at the wound as he brushed some of the dirt and dried blood away, knowing that his meager meddling would be of little help to such a gruesome thing. He did not feel up to the challenge of cleaning the wound and tending to it, especially given his lack of supplies, but neither did he want to deal with any possible consequences of leaving it to fester.

He had been given some food and water before being left alone earlier, and though he had turned away the latter, now he eyed the water basin from across the room. The simple thing had been left on the floor near the bars, and though the cell was small, the distance between himself and the water seemed twice as long as before.

Sucking in a breath, the elf pushed himself to his feet, quickly making his way to the other side and sinking to his knees before he had the chance to think much further. He leaned against the wall, briefly closing his eyes as he cleared his head. A sickening feeling of helplessness crept up inside him, choking him for a moment before he drew in a harsh breath. There was not much he could do, he reminded himself as he opened his eyes, overthinking and panicking would only make things worse, for fear would freeze him him and waste more precious energy that he did not have to spare.

He needed to be careful, he knew, for if he was hoping to be free of this place, he would need to be more careful of how his body was faring. The vampire's bite had sapped him of vital strength, and even now, it weighed him down and slowed his movements, clouding his mind when he needed clarity the most. He was already at a great disadvantage, as outnumbered as he was in these unfamiliar lands, where he had no standing, no authority and no one besides himself for protection. The only way out of it all, was to leave unnoticed, but if he wanted to slip away, he would need all his strength and grace of judgement.

Gathering his wits in a single, deep breath, Erestor settled his back against the wall and began the task of pulling the torn sleeve from around his wound, clearing it as much as he could with his uninjured hand. The torn flesh was sore and aching, and as he looked at the bloody gashes, he could make out the sickly imprints left in the shape of the creature's mouth. The skin was punctured deep from where the thing had latched on voraciously, slashed and jagged from where its grip had slipped. Erestor felt his skin crawl, disgust swirling in his exhausted haze as he remembered how the beast had drawn his blood so hungrily. He pushed away the last of his shirt sleeve a little too harshly, and begun to wipe it clean with a little too much force, his disquieted nerves making him snaring of the pain. The water-soaked piece of his shirt he used was hardly suitable for the job, but it was he best he could do and he was intent on washing away as much of the dirt and darkness from his arm as possible.

It had been a while since he had suffered such a wound, and the memory of other wide, jagged-toothed mouths threatened to send another shudder through his body. It was a small comfort, that within these thick walls, those monsters could not find him, and Erestor allowed himself the brief moment of cowardice. He wondered if that was what the idea of safety, true, sound and expected safety felt like. Was it only behind thick stone walls that one could feel safe? He wondered briefly before he shut those thoughts away. What would he know about safety when he was locked in some far and foreign cell with no idea of what was to become of him? There was no place that could keep one safe for long, that was the only thing he knew for certain.

It was later, that the dark-haired elf finished meddling with his arm, and held the throbbing extremity up for inspection. It was a rough job, a shred of fabric torn from his already ruined tunic tied sloppily around the smarting limb, but it was better than nothing. He was by no means a healer, and he knew he would need to see to it again later, but by the time Erestor decided enough was enough, the wound hurt more than it had before and his neck and shoulders burned with the strain of being hunched for so long.

He leaned back against the wall, resting his arm against his stomach as he watched the darkened ceiling above him. This was not something he was used to, being confined to a space with nowhere to go and no energy left to pace around as distraction. Eludor had always spoken in agitation about his inability to remain still, about the restlessness that seemed to burn in him at all times, and particularly at night. The other elf pretended not understand his reasoning for it, had even made himself seemed annoyed for it, but Erestor knew better, and he was thankful that the other never prodded or dragged attention to it.

He frowned at the darkness, feeling his body throb in time with the wound on his arm. It was isolating, being so utterly alone and cut off from the whole of the outside world, where he could not even tell what time of day it truly was. Erestor sighed, bringing his knees up and closer to himself, as he shifted to lean his head on them, eyes blinking at the torchlit hallway. He slipped a hand back into his pocket, taking the slender key into his hold before cradling it close, like a secret held delicately in his palm. He would not be here long, he reminded himself, he just needed to gather himself before making his move, and then, when he was freed of these city walls, he would dash into the woods, and not stop until the trees became familiar again, and the lands gave way to those he had grown so familiar with. He longed to see the vast plains again, the arid and airless spaces that existed between the stretches of lush, ancient forests, those places where the stars shone the brightest and the world felt endless. He did not care for the cold that seeped into his bones, and would do just fine with a few days spent under the blazing winter sun-

There was a sound like something snapping and a tremendous crash that shook the ground and Erestor jolted awake, heart hammering in his chest as he blinked at the darkness of his surroundings. It took him a long moment of staring into the dim, stone-lined room to remember the events that led him to this place. He curled his good arm around his knees, and closed his eyes as he forced himself to steady his breathing, focusing hard on his racing heart and frantic thoughts. The elf waited tensely for any follow up to the sound, although he knew no such thing would come. It was always the same, and it always caught him unawares, his own imagination dragged things back from where they should remain buried deep, jolting him awake with the violence of a nightmare he could never remember having.

A dull pain from his hand brought the elf back to the present, making him lessen his grip on his knees, noting that the key he was still holding was pressed viciously into his palm. He hated his nerves, he thought as he opened his hand, for he knew that such clear and short lived a sound could have occurred down here, where the walls would have echoed it endlessly, hollow and distorted. But nerves always outshone his logic, and it was impossible to fight against something so overwhelmingly instinctual.

Erestor forced himself to uncurl, pushing the thoughts from himself as his frantic heart slowed in increments. The stiffness in his neck and aching in his head made the elf groan quietly as he shifted position, feeling the bite of the cold that had seeped into his limbs and the crick in his neck from such an unnatural position. He had not realized he had fallen asleep, had not meant to do so curled up against the hard wall like a beaten dog.

With a muttered curse, he stretched out slowly, uncurling his legs in front of him and flexing his feet to regain feeling in the limbs. Reaching to run his hands through his hair elicited a stabbing pain from his arm, a sharp sting that blazed to the crook of his elbow to the tips of his fingers. He frowned as he held his arm close and peered down at it. The strip of cloth he had last used was now darkened and wet upon inspection, the wound having bled at some point in the night. How the wound could still be bleeding after all the time that has passed since he had gotten it, was beyond him. It was an ugly wound, but it certainly did not look deep enough it warranted such a prolonged bleeding, and it must have been long enough for it to have at least started clotting over by now. Confusion and concern rose like a wave, reminding him again of how startlingly uncertain his current situation was. He was not at ease in such conditions, being so unaware of what was happening with himself or with the others around him caused an ache to start deep within his chest.

Erestor knew he had to reign his worries in, force a himself calm to keep himself from acting rashly, but the lightning fast thoughts that flashed through his head were leaving a tumultuous restlessness in their wake. The longer he sat idly, the faster the dark-haired elf could feel weariness beginning to seep back into his body and his control slipping like water through his fingers.

He swallowed past the tightness in his throat and forced his eyes upwards, gaze staring harshly at the drab ceiling. Turning the key gently in his hand, the elf tried to rack his head for any indication for how much time could have passed since he had been left to his cell. It was pointless, thanks to the lack of windows and his own clouded thoughts, and he was at a loss entirely. He looked toward the firelight, hoping for some indication of the passage of time, but he was met with a set of fresh looking torches. They must have been changed at some point, which only meant he had been here long enough for at least one set of lights to burn low enough to replace. It unnerved him, that he had been so deeply asleep that he had not noticed someone coming down to change the light.

The dark-haired elf ran his fingers across the grooves of the key, feeling its weighty presence chase some despair from his heart. He had the answer to his troubles in his very hand, and its quick-fix allure was overpowering. It would be a shame to let the key go to waste, as it was likely that his little trick to obtain the key would soon be found out, and the consequences to such a thing could hardly be a good thing. Erestor was not privy to finding out just what those could be and perhaps, he thought, considering that he had already gone far enough as to steal the key, he had now had no other choice but to use it.

The silence pressed in as he deliberated with himself. It would be terrible for him if he was discovered, as it would only serve to anger the other elves, and would surely condemn him to something far worse than a cell. But the idling darkness and confinement of the walls brought back the uncomfortable, suffocating feeling that he would be trapped here forever. He did not have forever to stop whatever it was that was lurking beyond these walls. Time was ever of the essence, and with every moment that he spent without action, he felt his fingers burn with the need to do _something._ He had spent too much time down here already, that he was sure of, and if the elves of this city were still deliberating over what to do with him, then they were ineffective at best.

He had told himself he would play along with whatever these elves decided, if only for the fact that he had no way of truly retaliating and no desire to make enemies where he didn't have to. But now, whatever wearied patience had kept him put, had worn off completely, and he was in no mood to comply any further. He had given them enough time, he repeated to himself, he had no obligation to subject himself to such things, and if the councilors were not going to see reason, he had no responsibility to force them to. His mind was made up then, and the dark-haired elf felt some strength of mind surge through him, re-energizing his mind as he pushed himself to his feet. Erestor forced his clumsy limbs to respond to his commands as he shook the stiffness from himself.

Once he was on his feet, he listened for a long moment, tipping his head and straining his hearing to catch even the slightest of sounds. It was an almost unnatural silence that greeted him and it all but confirmed his suspicions of being left down here alone. It seemed, he thought rather bitterly, that even those set to guard the place were not fond of being down amongst the stone.

He shuffled closer to the door, his footsteps melting into the silence as he reached for the iron bars. Leaning close to peer into the darkness beyond his cell, Erestor was only met with more stillness, more of the nothingness in which he could not make out a single shape or lurking figure. He turned the key around in his hand and looked down to the black slot on the door, taking a quick breath before reaching out and around to fit the key in. The turn of the latch and the loud clicking of the lock was like a rockslide to the elf's ears, and he flicked his eyes quickly towards the entrance, tensing painfully as he waited for a flood of guards to barrel down towards him.

A moment passed, and then another, and when no one rushed in to stop him, or even appeared to see what the noise had been, Erestor let out a shaky breath he had been holding. He tried to forced his hammering heart to slow, chastising himself for being so jumpy and frightened by his own actions. With a silent admonishment, the dark-haired elf schooled his face and pushed against the cell door, holding on tightly, in case he needed to stop it suddenly. To his utter relief, and sheer bewilderment, the door went easily, opening up with not so much as a sound.

He stood there dumbly, holding on to the now open door and flicking his eyes up and down the hall. It could not have been this easy, he thought, giving his head shake and blinking as if to clear his vision. There had to be some kind trap awaiting him should he go any further, for how else could he explain his simply found freedom?

If he were ever on the other side of such a situation, Erestor thought, he would advise wholeheartedly against keeping such cell doors well oiled and noiseless.

Still reluctant to believe his luck, and certain he was about to get caught in some clever set up, the elf remained where he was, senses straining as he listened for potential dangers. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt as though his nerves had settled enough to unfreeze his limbs. Pushing past his reservations, Erestor took a trepidatious step forward and slowly eased the barred door back into place. It closed almost as smoothly as it had opened, noiseless aside from the small click when the door was once again locked in place.

He merely blinked at the bars, floundering at how he now stood on the opposite side of what had held him just moments ago. It seemed, that the beautiful city's modern and stunning architecture had failed in the most sophisticated way. They were lucky, he thought wryly, that he truly meant no harm, for if he had been ill intentioned or of fell beginnings, the city would have never stood a chance.

He felt fleetingly, a sense of worry and fear that should not belong to him, a dread for a city that meant nothing to him. He shook his head to chase away the thoughts, for who was he to think such things, to worry over the safety of those who refused to listen to his concerns or even those of their own. He had not missed the way some of the councilors had looked for fault in the balrog-slayer's words, or the undisguised distrust that simmered in their eyes when the elf had spoken. There was tension between the elves of the city, and Erestor had no desire to get between whatever conflict was sure to arise.

He could hardly do anything about it, and it was not like the members of the king's council would even consider listening to him, should he have to speak again with them. It was more likely that they would see only the deviance in his actions and their misplaced suspicions would condemn him for sure. The elves here seemed desperately content to live in the trance of apparent peace, all too happy to believe that such a thing could even still exist in such a wild, cruel world.

He clenched his fists and released a slow breath, centering his thoughts back to himself and his own situation. He had no business thinking of reprimands for those who were trying to keep him captive for nothing other than being a stranger within their lands. He did not have to point out their poor handling of his presence, for their plans of imprisonment had worked out in his favor, after all.

There was nothing more for him to do but to leave now, so he took a cautious step forward, and then another, carefully retracing the path he remembered from when he was marched down earlier. It was a quick walk then, and the sudden murmuring of voices nearly caught him off guard, halting him where he stood as he strained to make out where the noise came from. The low voices seemed right around the hall, a short ways from where Erestor stood and as he slowly inched closer to peer around the bend, the dark-haired elf breathed in relief.

There was an opening there, at the end of another short hall where a beautiful, bright light permeated the darkness. The voices were coming from beyond that door, dreadfully in the same direction of the precious little sunlight teased his senses. He ducked back around the corner, hesitating as a short shot of anxiety coursed through him and he deliberated his next move. It did not seem like the voices were getting closer, for there was no change in the tone or timbre that indicated movement, and there were no shadows moving in the low streaming in.

Erestor slowly crept closer, taking silent steps and keeping close to the wall as he neared the light. He could hear the steady voices from outside, _guards_ , the back of his mind supplied, they were most likely the guards set at the door meant to keep him, or anyone else, from coming and going. The dark-haired elf frowned as the light laughter reached his ears, confusing him as he slowly crept on. How relaxed could these elves be, when they were set to prevent his potential escape? He paused right at the edge of the light, back pressed against the wall as he let his eyes adjust to the brightness of the outside.

Blinking away the uncomfortable sting, Erestor focused on the voices, letting them guide his gaze until it fell on the elves responsible. Though they stood a short distance away, he could make out that they were not the same elves who had brought bring in the last time. One sat perched on a stone ledge, body turned towards the fading sun, while the other leaned his arms over the edge, one hand idly toying with small object. Even from the distance, Erestor could make out the shape of a dagger as it glinted in the light, and he quickly retreated back into the shadows. They may not be on a very vigilant watch, but it was an absolute folly to underestimate others, especially when such a situation involved weapons. Those elves could be as distracted as they seemed to be, and in an instant, snap to deadly attention and act as needed.

Another laugh flitted through the air towards him, and the dark-haired elf tilted his head, noting the youth in the sound and the casual ease with which it came. These elves were young, he realized, and it seemed they had yet to see such times that would leave others suspicious of the world around them. He had noticed, when he first observed the elves from afar in the woods, that many seemed to be incredibly young, a contrast to the old creatures he had heard stories about over the years. It was not that he expected to find such cruel and ancient beings, but he had at least thought that the weight of time would be more palpable in these lands. Instead he was left wondering at the ease of happiness that the guards before him displayed. It had been true amid the councilors, that their seriousness permeated the room, but not these elves. As they soaked the sun and conversed with each other, they remained unaware of their silent observer.

Perhaps, he thought, they were not expecting him to make much of a fuss, or be of much trouble since he had been as quiet and compliant as he had ever been since they had left those rooms. He had gone easily when the guards had walked him to the incarcerating structure, even easy to follow as he entered his cell without resistance in his movements. Maybe they were more at ease because he had not bothered to voice his annoyance or because he had simply been asleep for so long, that they thought him weakened. He was fairly certain, that his pale face and exhausted countenance, had made for low expectations of retaliation from him.

That was fine with him, Erestor thought as he inched back towards the opening, let them believe that he would simply be too tired to try anything, for it was all the better for him anyways. It was in his favor that they were so lax, as it would allow the dark-haired elf to slip right past the conversation-engrossed elves. Others, particularly Eludor and the elves they had spent time with so many years ago, had reprimanded him on his tendency to creep up on them unannounced. Even Pallando had once been caught off guard when the dark-haired elf had not been able to help his curiosity for what the other was reading. That particular instance had earned him a solid whack of the Istar's staff and a telling off in a language he had never heard.

Eludor had once told him, _it is great that you are able to come and go so quietly, for it will keep you safe._ He had put a solid hand on his shoulder then, _There will times when strength will not help you, but silence will save you._

That was something Erestor understood far too well, for while he had skill with his blades, his speed and cleverness in escape were his greatest weapons. It seemed that it was time to see if all the years' worth of complaints from startled countless others were warranted. He was going to try to simply walk out of this place, as there was very little option for an other course of action, lest he choose to return to his cell. That will not happen in a thousand years _,_ he thought angrily.

There was very little he could do if he were caught, so without deciding whether he would run or give himself in should the guards spot him, Erestor slipped out of the doorway and stepped quietly along the wall. He kept his eyes on the elves so near to him as he followed the wall as quickly as he dared, hardly letting himself breathe until he was some distance away. He kept going along the wall until he fell into its shadow, grateful that the building was situated along a stretch that was devoid of others. It was more luck than anything, that no one happened upon him as he hurried to put the bastille behind him.

Heart hammering against his chest, the dark-haired elf picked a direction at random and hurried off, just barely stopping himself from breaking into a run. It was almost dizzying, the fresh air that filled his lungs after so long underground, a stark contrast to the stale, damp cell that had left a chill deep in his bones. The sudden buzz of voices and stream of movement also threw him off, disorienting, he began to realize, that he had no one idea where to go next. He did not know what direction to take and as dusk began to settle in, he felt a panic stirring again, burning slowly as he searched for some clue as of an exit. Lindon, he remembered from some conversation long ago, was a pretty large place and it was said to be home to many elves. He could only hope that the large population would help him blend in and allow him to get lost amidst the crowd.

It was only when he had put a fair distance between himself and his once holding place, that the dark-haired elf allowed himself a further glance at the city. Just looking beyond the scope of his immediate surroundings, he felt his eyes widen at the streets before him, entranced by the dark-stoned walkways that seemed to glimmer in the dimming light. Tiny fragments of shining metals sparkled mildly, trapped within the larger cobble stones that caught light from freshly lit torches above. Small stone buildings lined the path, their windows showing off different works of art or furniture, some even displayed baked goods.

It appeared he had wandered directly into a market place, the small stalls ahead dragging his attention away from the allure of fresh food. Erestor felt his heart clench at the sight, the peaceful calm of the city and its unsuspecting residents was almost overwhelming in its serenity, a sharp contrast to his tumultuous mind and anxious emotions. It never ceased to surprise him, how the world beyond oneself could remain so untouched by the things that could be almost insurmountable to live through. He let the noise of the muffled conversations wash over him, the busy sounds a welcomed thing after having spent such a time alone in silence. There were a few places as such in the East, less so in recent decades, where people were free to come from distant places and meet and trade at will, though Erestor had not seen a market as clean and as organized this city's in a very long time. That only served to remind him of how much unease had seeped into those lands, and how much things had changed irreversibly.

The dark-haired elf straightened as he continued down the street, eyes cautiously scanning his surroundings as he took in the other elves that hustled along, some deep in conversation as others went in silence. A soft hum was carried on the evening breeze, and Erestor had to fight the urge to turn his attention towards the gentle sound, forcing his feet to carry on the path he had set. He did not have time for that, he knew, but he still felt a small pang of regret as the sound slowly faded into the night. He kept a wary eye on the others around him, worried he would inevitably come across a guard or other elf that would recognize him from his entrance into the city or his unfortunate meeting with the court.

The smells of the evening were enticing, and it was only when the dark-haired elf felt his stomach growl that he realized just how _hungry_ he was. He could hardly remember the last time he ate, and his traitorous thoughts flew back to the food he had been so petty to reject. Sometimes, he thought, he did let emotion drive him more than logic, a foolish and dangerous habit that he could not seem to outgrow. More often than not, it was never something he would recognize in the moment, only something he could frown upon later once things were said and done and he was worse for wear.

He was too tired to berate himself though, so he simply continued walking, moving smoothly with the crowd knowing that the hunger pang would pass and that by the time he felt it again, he would be free of the city limits. It was not a feeling he was unfamiliar with, as hunger had always found a way to creep up on him when he needed the inconvenience the least. His brother had spent much time admonishing him for being so careless with himself, but like with the many other things the elder elf had to criticize, Erestor took to simply ignoring it. In his earlier years especially, he had found that accepting the chastisements was a far easier way appease the older elf, and ease the harshness in his eyes. Fighting him had always sent the other into nervous rages, shaking hands clenching at his sides and voice straining with barely held back emotion.

There were many things wrong and complicated with the older elf, Erestor knew, and there were parts of his adoptive brother's life that were yet unknown to him, things that perhaps he would never know. He had never pressed the issues then, knowing all too well how fully painful memories could choke one's voice and chase away the need to share.

But he couldn't help resent the other though, for leaving him so utterly clueless and confused in his current situation. This was something of Eludor's making, he knew, as the older elf had clearly recognized that the golden-haired warrior was going to drag him out of the woods and into the city. He must have been at peace with leaving Erestor to take his place before he darted away with the vampires on his tail. It was just like him, to act the part of self-sacrificing idiot to the fullest and force Erestor into some form of safety, while he himself dove into dangers without a second thought. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch in annoyance, though he felt a wisp of dread curl tight in his chest. What dangers truly lurked out there? What was slowly creeping towards these lands that even the famed balrog slayer seemed shocked into reprieve and the Noldor King ordered the temporary sealing of the city?

Alatar's last words rang in his head, _Get to him before he gets to them,_ he had whispered harshly, hand squeezing his arm as the wizard held him back. _Don't let that brother of yours get to Lindon alone._

He had not offered much else, but back then, Erestor had had no patience to wait or press for more. He had merely shaken the other's hand from him and left to gather his thoughts, intent on following the older elf regardless. But now, how he wished he had asked for more information and had pressed the wizards for the knowledge they clearly kept to themselves. He wanted desperately to understand what was going on and to not feel like the only one who was left in the dark of all this. But against his very nature, he was going to have to sacrifice answers for his liberty, for he had to leave this city before someone showed up to imprison him again. It was not something he was happy about, but considering everything the was stacked up against him, his current actions included, he needed to find a way out of the city as soon as he could.

The setting sun indicated that it had been at least a day since he had been sent into holding, and that sooner or later, someone was going to come looking for him, only to find an empty cell and a missing prisoner. With thoughts on his dwindling time, he made his way down the street, walking with the aim to reach the base of one of the city's walls, from where he could follow to the gates or other exit points surrounding the city. It was reassuring to have some kind of plan, and Erestor felt a smile tease at his lips, because despite his worries he was still taken aback by the laughing nearby and the happy squeals of elflings as they darted about. It had been quite a while since he had heard such simple, joyous things, and he took in every moment of it, letting it ease his mind back to calmness.

It wasn't long before he caught sight of one of the walls. It was still quite a distance away but even from afar, the dark-haired elf could tell that there were guards set along the top. The small figures of the guards stood along the wall, their strategic clustering indicative of the watchful task they had been set on. There were many of them, he thought, and if they had been set as such along all of the city's perimeter, it would explain why he had yet to come across any of them during his walk through the city. Erestor could only assume that the call for extra vigilance at the perimeter had seen that the younger, less experienced elves set to guard something as seemingly secure as a prison house.

He came to a stop, still gazing at the wall as the king's words slipped back into his mind. The lockdown on the city meant that Erestor was trapped inside it, freed of the dingy cell but caught in a larger prison. That would simply not do, he thought, he had not just risked escape from the cells and the potential danger of being caught, only to find he was still just as unable to leave as he had been before.

Erestor tapped fingers against his leg, trying to think of his next move as he slowly forced his feet to move, following his original trajectory in favor of simply standing in place. He wandered over to a well-lit street, weaving between other elves as he thought through his options. Perhaps he could wait until night fell completely, so that his movements near the walls were concealed by shadows. That would certainly keep him out of sight for a while, but elves had sharp vision, and the guards were on high alert at the moment, and he knew that no amount of stealth would be enough to deceive such watchful eyes.

It was going to be tricky, if not impossible, to find a way out of the city with such a blockade on all exits, but he had already made it this far, and going back to the cell was not an option. He kept walking, intent on memorizing the streets in case he needed to find his way later. Despite his tiredness, he took in all the sights, finding the city stunning to look at, so different as compared to the other places he had seen. He had always been curious for things unknown, and he had grown accustomed to the frequent traveling that he and Eludor would do. The older elf had a strong dislike for remaining in one place for too long, and the east was vast and wide enough for them to have lost themselves in it for the lifetime Erestor had known. He had seen such wonders in his life, and he had also known such wretched things. No life was simple, he knew, even the most peaceful of places had chaos within them, and it was only the balance of life, for the world was not a gentle place, nor was it ever going to be.

Dusk was slow to settle, and with it came a chill that Erestor felt too acutely. He tried to ignore it as found his thoughts straying to the world that lay beyond these walls, to the friendly woods with the chatty trees that would be a welcomed thing, their warm voices a comfort after so long alone with only his thoughts.

The chatter of the night was punctuated by a muffled whiny, the smell of horses following shortly, alerting the elf to the unexpected presence of a horse nearby. It almost froze him, the first thought that came into his mind being that it was a guard making a sweep of the city, soon to find and detain him. But a moment later, he sighed in relief, catching sight of the small, almost hidden sign that pointed towards an alley. Unable to help himself, he peered down the narrow passage, almost smiling as he confirmed the sign's message. Cleverly tucked behind a cluster of other buildings, was a small stable house from which Erestor could just make out soft snorts. He took a step back, ready to turn away when a group of elflings came barreling down the street, their loud, excited voices distracting them from the obstacles in their way. He was forced to jump backwards to get out of the young ones' way, just barely avoiding having them crash into him.

Heart racing at the near miss, he gave his head a small shake and moved to leave the alley, his relief short lived when a heavy weight landed on shoulder. The hand, he realized frantically, pulled him back quickly, tearing him away from the street, and scarcely giving him the chance to pull away when he was spun around and shoved towards the wall.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The angry voice hissed at him, and Erestor blinked owlishly at the blond that now stood menacingly in front of him. He could hardly find a single thought in the mess of his head, let alone give voice to any of them, but thankfully, the blonde didn't seem to be expecting one.

"What are you doing here? How did you even get out of that cell?" The balrog-slayer sputtered out, brow creased with confusion, annoyance written clearly across his features. His tongue was failing him, Erestor realized in a panic, and his instincts screamed at him to get away fast, eyes darting towards the mouth of the alley. The blonde caught the movement, and looked at him sternly, "Don't even think about," he ground out, shifting to block the exit more, "Now tell me, how did you get out of your cell?"

Erestor stared at him, mind reeling and heart hammering away against his ribs as, yet again, his words failed to sort themselves out. He gave his head an unconscious shake, too tongued tied to dare to speak. The response only seemed to stir the fire in the other's eyes, his nose flaring in anger before taking a step forward, "Want to try that again?" he spoke lowly but sternly, "How did you get out."

The dark-haired elf pressed himself against the wall, wishing that the harsh stone would soften beneath him and allow him to slip away. But the wall was solid, and it bit coldly into his back as the balrog slayer's intense gaze bore into him. "I walked out," he finally blurted out, "No one stopped me, so I kept going. If you were intent on keeping me there, you should have tried harder." The flood of words left his mouth before he could stop them, and it was with a huge effort that Erestor managed to snap his jaw shut, silencing him before he could further anger the warrior.

"I see." The blond narrowed his eyes, "And how, exactly, did you manage that?" His voice was steadily calculated, and though he did not advance or seemed further angered, he still stood defensively, effectively blocking the only escape from the alley. Erestor shook his head, knowing how ridiculous his next set of words were going to sound, "I had a key," he said quickly, "And your guards are not very good at guarding."

That, at least, gave the other elf pause, brows furrowing even further as he stared down at him. "Where did you get a key? How did you-" the elf shut his mouth with a loud click as realization flashed on his face. The blond's shoulders fell in heavy resignation, a look that could have been a frown touched upon his features, before he schooled the expression back to neutral. He shook his head in a tired way, mumbling something under his breath that Erestor couldn't quite catch.

"You have to be kidding me," he murmured mostly to himself, though he shot an irritated look towards the dark-haired elf. "Why would you think that was a good idea? Don't you know how much worse you made this for yourself?"

He did know, Erestor was no fool, and he knew just how bad of an idea it had been, had known it all along. But the idleness of the cell and his own creeping panic had overwritten all the sensible parts of his mind, had overcome the sharp logic that usually kept him calm, and it had made him choose such a reckless action. The dark-haired elf had been all too aware of how his actions would seem to others if caught, and yet, he had not found another course of action that would not end in him loosing what little calm he had managed to keep.

He knew all this, but he could hardly explain it to the other elf who watched him expectantly. He couldn't think of the right way to phrase any of it, so he merely stared back at the other elf, giving another, useless shake of his head.

"I would have thought you to be smarter than this," the warrior frowned, "If you had been seen or if I had been anyone other than myself, you would not be simply standing here speaking." The words made Erestor bristle, though he knew them to be absolutely true, and he glared at the other elf.

"I know that," he hissed, "I know that it was stupid, but I couldn't just sit there. I couldn't just do nothing for however long it would take you all to decide on what to do next."

The other elf stared at him, eyes flashing before he released a long, tension filled sigh. "Listen carefully," he started lowly, "I had told you about those of the king's council. They do not take lightly to outsiders, especially to those who arrive under such strange circumstances. You can hardly blame them for their course of action."

This he knew, he did not fault the others for desiring to be cautious or for wanting to keep their city and people safe. But Erestor did not appreciate being caught in the middle of it all, and being laid the blame for things he had nothing to do with was not something he was going to take lightly.

"I don't blame them," he insisted heatedly, "I don't agree with what they had to say, but I cant hardly say that I don't understand why they did so." His heart slammed against his chest, part in fear and part in anger.

The blond made a sound in the back of his throat, a wry look upon his face, "I am glad that you understand that, but regardless, you have just landed yourself deeper in their disfavor." He gave him a pointed look, his critical eye taking him in before he tipped his head. "That isn't all, is it?" His question caught Erestor off guard again, and he could find the words to reply. The blond pushed on, "What else is there that you aren't telling me?"

He was unsure as to how to respond to that, so he just averted his gaze to the side, sparing a look towards the street before forcing his eyes back to the other elf. The blond was watching him carefully, expression unreadable as his ageless eyes scrutinized him. What he was thinking, he could not tell and the dark-haired elf felt a shudder threaten to rise in him again, unnerved by the weighty presence of the reborn warrior.

Night had truly fallen, as all light had left the sky in the time it had taken for the blond to catch and corner him. As he swept his gaze across the ground again, the dark-haired elf focused his attention on anything other than the searing gaze of the other elf, letting his eyes land on the small stable that had originally caught his attention. The small structure that had lead to his re-capture stood innocently in the shadows of the other buildings, almost easy to miss in the dimness. How he wished he had not been drawn in by the sounds of those temperamental beasts.

"If you are going to keep your silence, you should start thinking of new and more clever ways to escape." The blond's words made him jump and whip his head back, "I highly doubt we will be as lenient with you, after this." As the words sank in, Erestor felt his heart quicken, his hands tingled as he clenched them into fists. This was exactly what he had feared the most and it was happening, his nightmare coming to fruition and he, powerless to stop it.

"Peace," The other elf held his hand up placatingly, "Calm yourself, I meant it merely to get your attention." He tried to lighten his voice, but it only sounded strange through the pounding in Erestor's ears. "There is nothing to fear, but I can't help you if you don't help me." Erestor did not like that the other could see through him so easily, for it made him feel all the more vulnerable than he already was. The blond elf jestered with his arm with a quick flick of his wrist, though Erestor did not move his eyes to follow the movement.

"Don't look at me like that," the other elf shook his head, "I'm not going to hurt you, and though I _should_ bring you directly to the other guards and report your misdemeanor," he seemed to huff the words out, "I have no doubt, that doing that will only cause more trouble than we already have."

Taken aback, and jaw clenched too tightly to speak, the dark-haired elf merely tilted his head, brows furrowed in questioning. The blond shook his head once, "If you were so desperate to escape that you were willing to risk being caught, then I highly doubt that putting you back in that cell would be of any benefit to us or to you, should you decide to continue with such foolish actions."

When all he received was another silent stare, the reborn warrior rolled his eyes skyward, looking for all the world that he was gathering the will and strength to continue. After a moment, those too-bright eyes came back to rest on him, face clear and devoid of anger, perhaps in an attempt at friendliness. "I think we should start by having someone see to that arm of yours." The blond pointed at the bloodstained bandage. "You should have let Elrond tend it when he offered. It should have stopped bleeding by now."

Erestor frowned at the mention of his injury and spared a quick glance down. He wish he hadn't when he noticed the slow trail of blood snaking down his arm. "Why is it doing that?" he mumbled, concern suddenly seeping through his fear.

"That is the thing with vampires," the blond said casually, "wounds from their claws or their teeth tend to bleed on, sometimes for days, if left unattended." He eyed the crude bandaging, his expression neutral as he paused for a moment. "Come with me," the elf finally sighed and moved so that he was no longer blocking sight of the torchlit street, "we'll go to the healers and they will see to putting a stop to that." He looked him squarely in the eye. "And then you will tell me exactly what it was that drove you to such a state."

Staring in bewilderment, Erestor remained frozen in place, certain he had heard wrong, and that a crowd of guards would rush over at any moment. The blond stared at him expectantly, allowing the silence to stretch between them.

Eventually, he crossed his arms across his chest and quirked an eyebrow. "Well, would you rather I bring back to your cell without seeing a healer first? I'm sure you will make it a few more hours before the blood loss gets the better of you." The tone was perhaps meant to be light, but the elf's overwhelming presence did not allow for a moment of reprieve. Erestor turned the other's words over in his head, trying to seek out the elf's hidden intentions. What reason would this captain of the Noldorin city have to want to help him, an outsider and possible threat to such carefully re-constructed peace? He wouldn't even trust himself _._

"Look," the blond tried again, frustration starting to peek through his solemn façade, "you can come with me to get your arm taken care of, or you can follow me back to the cells. Either way," he looked him squarely in the eye, "you are not leaving my sight until I have brought your little excursion up to the king. You will have to deal with those consequences as they come, but it would be easier if you were steady on your feet." The other's ageless eyes seemed to glow in the darkening night.

The warrior was giving him a choice, or at least something that resembled one, for it was more of a command disguised as a decision, but at least he could have his pick. Erestor swallowed his building frustration, forcing his thoughts from the painful restriction he felt placed upon him. He needed to act rationally, choose wisely and not make things even worse than he already had. It was a difficult task, to fight the instinct that had kept him from dangers for so long, but he knew, that should he even attempt to defy the blond elf, he would not make it very far.

He was also well aware, that if he didn't choose to go with the balrog-slayer, his only other accomplishment tonight would have been successfully eluding a few guards and angering an entire kingdom. Jaw clenched against his frustration, Erestor spared one last, fleeting thought to speeding around the warrior and taking off into the darkness, shaking his head to rid himself of the ridiculous idea.

"I'll warn you now," said the other elf, "If you try to make a run for it, you wont make it far, and you wont even know what hit you." He kept his gaze straight, not even bothering to look at Erestor as he spoke, "And believe me, then you will have to try a lot harder than a sleight of hand to get yourself out of that situation."

He hated that the other could so easily tell what went on in his mind, that he could so quickly judge how little of a threat he posed and even then, that he could tell just how shaken and out of sorts he was. It was frustrating, that he could not seem to hide his thoughts from the elf, but then again, perhaps it was best that at least one person seemed undisturbed enough to actually listen. If there was anyone in this city to be in good graces with, it was probably best that it was the reborn warrior and not some other, less Valar-approved elf. Erestor had not missed how the king seemed to consider the blond's words with importance, something that would prove helpful to some degree.

He did not appreciate that he was once again, made to follow the blond to a place he had no desire to go to. But there was little else he could do, his plan had failed and now he had to see to its consequences, whether he liked it or not. He had always been careful to avoid this exact situation, though obviously not careful enough, he thought as he spared a quick and longing glance at the sky beyond the wall, where the stars hung out of reach and tempting in the dark.

They wove their way back through the darkened street, following the shadows of buildings and thankfully encountering no one on their journey. Most of the city's inhabitants must made their way home for night, fleeing the chill of the night to find the comfort of their homes and loved ones. Erestor glared at the back of the blond's head as he struggled to keep up behind the other's long, purposeful strides. The warrior knew what he was doing, he was sure of it, he knew that the other was intentionally wearing him out despite the fact that he already felt like he had wrestled with a warg and lost. It was, perhaps, his way of getting back at the dark-haired elf for all the trouble he had brought upon him in the last few days.

Erestor only hoped that the other elf did not become so irritated with him as to become cold and unreasonable. He did appreciate the other's integrity, for if the circumstances were reversed, he was not sure that he would be as patient and understanding as the blond had been.

That was perhaps, one of the many things that marked the warrior high in the favor of the Valar and had seen him back to this troubled world.

* * *

 **Thanks for reaching the end of this chapter. Real action to come in the next installment. Until then, readers.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Apologies for going MIA, things had just caught up with me.**

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Erestor tried hard to remember the last time he had been around so many of his own kin. It had been decades ago, he thought, that he had parted ways with the last group of elves he had dared to become acquainted with. They had gone their separate ways after traveling north for a bit, but those elves were intent on reaching the far shores of a the ancient land the trees would whisper about, and he had no intention on ever returning to that desolate beach.

He had avoided becoming involved with others of his kin after that, unsure that he could withstand another loss as such. As much as he'd tried, he could not convince the others that the lands they searched for were not ones to be found. For _Cuiviénen,_ he had known, was a place unreachable to all who tried, it was but a hopeful dream that all must surrender. When he had left them, it was with the heavy feeling of finality, for he would never see those elves again.

Distance was safe, he knew, and it had kept him from trouble for a while since then, though now his lack of experience with his kind made him uncertain of what to say as he followed closely behind the balrog slayer. Rare was the case that he was rendered so speechless, for he usually found some topic of conversation to carry him through the time. But as he watched the other elf's back, he could see the tension in the stiff set of his shoulders, and sense the apprehension in the other's silence.

He did not know what the other had planned for him, or if a single wrong word would change the elf's mind and instead make him send him back to the dungeons from where he'd escaped. So lost was he in his mind, that he didn't notice they had come to a stop until he nearly walked into the other's back. He managed to stop himself right on time, narrowly avoiding the collision, shooting a look at the back of the blond's head as he backed away quickly, heart hammering in his throat as he tried to collect himself.

They had stopped before a great set of oak doors, the dark and polished wood gleaming in the torchlight like jewels of their own kind. There were faint voices from the room beyond it, and after a courteous rap on the door, the blond elf pushed it open smoothly, revealing a warmly lit, high ceilinged room beyond. He walked in without hesitation, a quick flick of his hand gesturing for Erestor to follow. He hesitated for a moment at the doorway, but seeing no other option but compliance, the dark-haired elf did as the other bid him to.

The healing hall was exactly what he had expected, and yet, like nothing he had ever imagined before. Erestor had seen the healing arts of the varying regions of Rhûn, unexpectedly and sometimes completely by accident, but never had he entered a chamber such as the one before him. He had witnessed the use of the advanced tools and methods that the dwarves of the Iron Hills were privy to, and he was well aware of healing herbs and remedies that the ancient tribes of Harad used. Though he had kept a careful distance from such practices throughout his years, he had, of course, learned what he needed in order to help himself in case of any unfortunate encounters with wild things or warring men. He was quite familiar with the nuances of healing, yes, as desperate need often makes leaners out of many, but it had never been an art he was particularly drawn to, and not one he would have ever considered pretty. And yet the room he now found himself in was quite far from any of the rustic and blood-soaked places he had encountered in his life. For it was grand and clean, glass jars filled with herbs, powders and liquids lining one of the walls while a large fireplace warmed the space. He was taken aback by the beauty of it, though he hardly had a chance to take it in in its entirety before he was shoved to sit onto at the edge of a nearby bed.

He opened his mouth to protest when a glare and stern command from the old warrior silenced him. The other elf turned to quietly call for someone's attention, and Erestor took the moment to scan the room again, quickly catching sight of the clean linens folded in the corner, and the doors that stood elegantly at the end of the large room. He wondered only briefly, if it was another exit that lead away from the space.

"It's just an office," the golden warrior's voice broke through his small hope, "There are no more exits for you here." The knowing look on the other's face made Erestor's skin crawl, and he wondered again if the other had the ability to simply read his mind. He tried to keep his expression neutral, even as he saw someone else walking towards them. His entire body stiffened as he recognized the elleth before him as the same who that had stood quietly in the room while he had been interrogated. The lady had been stone-faced and unmoved by any of the events between the raucous elves around her, and her expression had hardly changed from then to now.

She was, he concluded as she neared, much older than he could even fathom, and when she settled her ageless gaze on him, the weight of her years was a stifling thing. Her eyes burned with the ages she had lived, and an unnatural light swirled within their depths so intensely that Erestor found himself unable to hold the gaze for too long. He fought the urge to shrink away as she stopped before the bed, silently observing him as her presence filled the room. The moment stretched, and Erestor couldn't help but flick his eyes to the door he had entered from, an unconscious habit that only earned him darkening glare from the blond behind the healer.

Thankfully, the she-elf moved her gaze away from his face and down to his arm, letting Erestor feel like he could breathe again, though that did not last very long. She shifted closer, and with the same authority and presence with which she had first watched him, stuck her hand out expectantly, motioning with her fingers that he give her his arm. He was locked in indecision, as his instincts held him frozen in place for a few, breathless moments.

His arm gave a painful throb before he finally broke his paralysis, gingerly lifting it from where it was curled close to his middle and offering it up to the healer. She took his wrist, her grasp firm but gentle as she turned the limb over, eyes raking over his crude bandaging and the bruising that peaked beneath the fabric. Erestor watched her as she inspected the injury, a hardly noticeable flicker crossing her face, before her features fell back to neutrality. The healer said nothing as she finished her assessment and began unwinding the bandage, her movements swift and efficient. She revealed the injury quickly, crumpling the useless bandages to the floor as she inspected the gash closely.

"Vampire." The word was said in neutral tone, though there was just a barely discernible edge to it. "Why hadn't this been seen to before?" She turned those awful eyes back to him, her gaze like a reprimand even as they swept back over to the golden warrior.

"Elrond offered to tend it," the blond offered, "but our guest here declined the help." There was exasperation in the elf's voice, but Erestor was too tense to send him a glare, minding the tingling in his hand as he flexed his fingers. The healer hummed low, a short, disapproving sound as she turned back to him.

"This needs to be stitched." She said shortly, turning to call out across the room for assistance and a needle. Erestor felt his arm stiffen, his whole body freezing at the thought of being at the mercy of the cold healer and her icy stitches. His muscles tensed further when the startlingly familiar elf came into his line of sight, carrying a basin in one hand and clean bandages in the other. He looked the image of innocence, with his loose robes and kind, open face. It made Erestor's stomach twist, unease tingling across his senses as the elf reached them silently.

He stopped by the elleth's side, and Erestor watched them closely, silently studying the practiced eased with which they moved together. They worked in silent unison, the assisting elf staying out of the head healer's way as she arranged her materials around her.

When she moved to better straighten Erestor's arm, she was met with resistance as the dark-haired elf instinctively made to pull away. His nervous reaction giving the healer pause, and she lifted her inquiring gaze back to him, her ancient eyes locking on his. Even as the elleth's silence bore dreadfully into him, her steely gaze felt fleetingly familiar, it was like a tickle of a memory that was over in an instance, but somehow it was enough to shake some of the tension from Erestor's body.

He wasn't even aware of it until he felt his arm relax in the healer's hands, allowing her to take control again. He resigned himself to it then, turning his thoughts away from the room and sharp suturing and back to how he was going to get himself out of this situation. He stared down at her hands as they set to work and he felt the bite of the needle in a distant sort of way, his mind growing fuzzy as the warmth of the room chased the chill off his skin. He let himself soak in its comfort as he worriedly thought as to what he could do next.

As the born again warrior had mentioned before, he had undoubtedly dug himself deeper into trouble, and the elves in the city were less than likely going to take his actions lightly. Even if he did manage to convince them to simply imprison him again, they would obviously use more efficient means to unsure he would not get out next time. He would be a prisoner for an eternity if he did not find some way to avoid it.

Erestor wanted to groan with how tired he felt, with how absurdly ridiculous his current situation was and how utterly helpless he felt to do anything about it.

If he ever made it back out of this city, he thought murkily, he would never let his curiosity lure him into another trap as such. He had done so good for years, he thought, careful to mind himself and stay clear from those who quarreled with the outside world. But it was just as Eludor had said, his own doing and impetuous nature was going to bring him grief, and of course the older elf was right.

From now on, he pledged silently, he would stay far enough away from matters that were none of his business, even if the desire to meddle was so deeply ingrained in him.

A sharp pinch made him wince, and moments later, a cooling sensation brought him out of his reverie, making him look towards his arm as the healer's assistant covered the now stitched wounds with a thick, clear paste. He had not even noticed when the elves had switched off, or that the head healer had moved back across the room, busying herself with inspecting some jars. It was not like him to miss such big details, but before he could ponder too deeply, a strong, pungent smell reached him. Erestor couldn't help but scrunch his nose up at the scent, and the assisting healer, catching his look, offered him a gentle smile edged with amusement. "It is a pain reliever," he said by way of explanation, motioning to his arm, "I know it smells unpleasant, but it helps quicken the healing process."

Erestor merely hummed in response, too busy scanning the other's face to pay much attention to the words he had spoken. In the light of the room, he could see the elf's features more clearly, and there they were, the familiar details upon this stranger's face that he had only ever seen on one person before. Of course some elves looked similar, or some shared certain characteristics that made them appear so, but the strong brow and distinct, bright grey eyes were disorienting to look at on an otherwise unrecognizable face.

The elf in question quickly averted his gaze, looking back intently on the bandages he was finishing off. Erestor too, tore his eyes away, knowing he had stared for too long and deciding to take a closer look about the room instead. In truth, he wanted to look anywhere but towards the elf at his side.

He quickly found the others for whom he searched, though the head healer and balrog slayer had moved away, and were conversing lowly at the edge of the room. They were too far to make out any words, and though Erestor was certain they were no longer speaking Westeron, he could distinguish the serious tones of their voices. He felt a sudden surge of unease threaten to rise again, and that intrepid restlessness returned as he fought not to squirm in place.

Shifting his gaze, he was startled to see an occupied bed at the other end of the room, almost hidden from view. One elf lay in it while three others huddled around him. Erestor was further unnerved when he recognized two as the ones he had originally seen out in the woods, and he did not have to look to know that the prone elf was the one who had taken the claws to the neck.

He wrenched his eyes away before they could notice him staring and settled on inspecting the white sheets of the bed upon which he sat. It was stained red in some places with his blood, splattered from where the healers must have pushed the skin together. He had not felt that either, and Erestor had to take a slow, deep breath to steady himself as the elf beside him finished wrapping up his arm.

The relief finally came when the bandages settled softly against the battered skin, their slight pressure welcomed in leu of the persistent ache.

"You'll need to clean and re-dress those wounds every few hours for the next couple of days for them to heal properly." The tall elf said as he tucked the last piece of the bandage in place, "You might feel some numbness in that hand for a bit," he continued as he stood and gathered his used tools, "But that would just be the salve working." Erestor met the elf's gaze again, freezing as those grey eyes locked with his. He furrowed his brow, confusion crossing his mind as he searched the other elf's face. The healer froze as well, hands stopping mid-movement as uncertainty warred with the natural calm of his features.

It was a ridiculous thing, Erestor thought as he tilted his head, that the more he looked at the elf, the more questions arose in his mind. He had not managed to make sense of any of the recent events, and he had the sinking feeling he would be no closer to such a thing any time soon.

"Where are you from?" It took him a moment to realize that the rough voice that had asked the question had been his own, and that it had spilled forth without control.

The other elf seemed equally surprised, his eyebrows rising high before he moved to finish cleaning up. "I suppose one could say here and there," he said quietly. The elf turned his attention back to his task, though his hands had stilled again.

"It is a difficult question to answer," he said carefully as he crossed to place the used materials on a nearby table. "I didn't have a single, permanent home before coming here." The elf hesitated for a moment, pausing to flick his gaze to where the other elves in the room now stood, quietly watching them, "I can tell you that I hail from the lands of Sirion," he took a small breath, "Or at least I used to be, as it was my first home and all." He finished rather quietly, a touch of uncertainty tainting the voice he so obviously tried to keep light.

"Oh." Was all Erestor could say in response, not knowing what to do with that information, as he wasn't quite sure what he had intended with the question in the first place. The elf's words did give reason for the quiet sorrow that lingered in the healer's soft eyes, though, and Erestor thought that perhaps it also explained why the elf moved about so gingerly. For he was quite acquainted himself with the unintrusive way one moved in an unfamiliar environment.

Sirion, he remembered, had been devastated just like the other cities he had learned about years ago, adding another blood-soaked chapter to the history of these tainted lands.

Eludor had told him of the other tragedies that the previous age had seen, and though it had not been often that the other elf would share his own knowledge of the past, it had happened enough for Erestor to understand just how bad things had truly been. He hated to dwell on it, and though he had not even lived through such things, it was not difficult for him to imagine the terrors that it could produce.

He gave the healer a short nod, uncertain as to what else he could say and not trusting his words enough to voice them. The other elf also seemed just as unsure as to what to do, but he offered another small smile before he turned to walk to the far end of the room.

Erestor looked away from the retreating elf and back towards his arm, taking in the clean, white bandages, and wondering at how he could ever expect to repay the debts he was accumulating in this place. The elves had not mentioned that he was now in-debt to them, but how could he not be, given the trouble he had caused them and the lengths the three had now gone to see to his injury.

He clenched his hand into a shaking fist, testing its strength and flexing his fingers about. It no longer throbbed, and though there was a dull ache deep within the limb, the fire from earlier had all but disappeared. The healer's apprentice had been right though, there was a numbness from the paste that made it feel a clumsy and unsteady, but that was a minor inconvenience as compared to the earlier pain.

He lifted his head, suddenly roused from his thoughts when he felt a presence at his side. The dark-haired apprentice was back and had come with a silver cup in his hand, which he extended out towards him. Erestor stared at the offered cup, and then back at the other elf, the silent question hanging between them.

"It's Miruvor," the elf offered, "a fortifying drink. It will make you feel better." He motioned the cup closer to Erestor, but still he did not move to take it. Instead he held still, once again unsure of what he to do, and more than ready to decline the offered drink. He was thirsty, hungry even, to the point where his stomach ached, but nevertheless, he did not feel inclined to trust that the liquid had not been tainted with some sleeping draught or worse.

It was not very long ago, that poisons had become particularly popular amongst murderers in the southern most region of Rhûn. They had been used excessively in the quarrel for control of the border lands near Ered Lithui, and Erestor had seen first hand just how quickly and terribly they could work.

He had since been wary of things offered to him, cautious of all unknown food or drink, even if the use of such poisons had been relatively contained to mass events. He tried to remind himself of that fact, but he had heard of enough of the horrible occurrences within the last year that it discouraged his trust.

Dark brows furrowed in uncertainty as the healer frowned at him, taken aback by the strange elf's startled refusal of the cordial. Erestor started to shake his head when he heard an exasperated sigh, and turned his gaze to see none other than the blond elf quickly approaching. He held an identical silver cup in his hand and paused before them, upending his cup to show its emptiness. The blond then made a show of pouring half of the contents of the other vessel into his own and gulping it down in several, quick swallows. He turned the cup over again, eyes locked on Erestor's as he did so.

"It is not poisoned, and it is no trick." The blond spoke steadily, setting the empty cup on the table, "Now, if you don't drink it, I will. It'd be a shame to let good Miruvor go to waste." He pushed the other cup into the reluctant elf's hands and looked pointedly at him, his countenance one of waiting as one foot tapped against the floor.

Erestor hesitated still, the clear liquid in his cup glimmered invitingly as he stared down at it, as enchanting a substance as he would expect from the Noldor of the west. Simple, it would be, to deny their request and rid himself of the drink, to push the beautiful cup back into the strangers' hands in firm refusal. But where would that get him, he thought, it would do absolutely nothing but put him back into the bad graces of the only ones who seemed willing to help him. Besides that, he could also not deny the aching thirst that had worked its way into his throat and the tiredness that had settled behind his eyes.

He swatted away his intrusive paranoia, and with the other two watching him, the dark-haired elf took a cautious first sip. The drink was sweet, and surprisingly warm. It was good, delicious even, and Erestor had to force himself not to tip all of the cup's contents down his throat at once as he suddenly wanted to. As it was, he finished the drink all too quickly for his liking, and he was left holding the cold, empty cup, wishing he had not allowed the blond to drink half of what could have been his.

"It was good wasn't it?" The culprit commented, clear eyes watching him knowingly. Erestor did not respond, but merely placed the emptied cup into the healer's waiting hands. "What is in it?" His voice was not as rough as it had been before, and already he felt the dogged exhaustion ebbing away. The warrior only offered him a small smirk, "That is a secret." He said, sharing a knowing look with the healer.

Erestor frowned, unimpressed and annoyed by such secrets that these elves tended to keep. He had not encountered such a drink before, for all tonics that reduced pain and came from the hands of men were heavy with drugs and often tasted outwardly awful.

"I think," the blond started, his tone mellowing out to seriousness as he settled his gaze on the dark-haired elf, "Now that you're neither starving or hurting, you are in a better state to be of more help to us." His dark-haired companion looked between the golden warrior and the strange elf, his intelligent eyes sparking with understanding as he held his silence.

"I believe there is some knowledge we can gain from you that can be beneficial for us," the balrog slayer's voice was calm, "In turn I do think there are ways we can be of help for you as well." Erestor could not think of any ways they could be of help to him, short of just letting him leave the city there was nothing more he would want. He did not voice this thought though, for he did feel much better than he had since he had first encountered these elves, and for that he was at least willing to listen.

"What do you think I can tell you that I have not already?" he sat up a little straighter, keeping his tone relaxed as he watched the blond take a seat on the bed opposite to where he sat.

"Tell me the state of the eastern lands," the warrior's words were unexpected, and it took a moment for them to sink in. When they did, Erestor couldn't help but furrow his brow, "Excuse me?" he was not certain he had heard correctly, but the golden warrior merely gave him a look.

"What were conditions like when you left," he paused, tilted his head and seemed to think for a moment. "You mentioned a feeling, a bad one. Did this start before you left your lands or only once you got here?"

The elf's eyes bore into him with quiet intensity, and when Erestor did not speak right away, the blond added, "I do not believe it is a coincidence that the last days' events have unfolded the way they did. Neither do I think your unease, as you have described it, is something to be overlooked. Tell us what it is that you could not speak of before."

Erestor fought to not slide his gaze away, held in the uncomfortable stare of the ancient elf that now implored him to explain something which he had could not even explain to himself.

"I don't exactly know how to put it in words," he began, "But I can tell you that everything was very different when I left."

Different was too light a word for it, he thought, _wrong_ felt more adept for describing the way things had been back in his lands. "Things had changed considerably everywhere. From the way merchants refused to travel to how common neighbors regarded each other." He paused, unsure of the words he was looking for. "I suppose you can say that things changed slowly and yet all at once." He remembered the stuttering rapidness with which the mood had changed and aggressions rose. It had been hard to distinguish because of the very fact that violence had almost always been a part of life in the east, but it had not been to this degree before, and that made all the difference.

"I have reason to believe it began somewhere in the south…" he trailed off, unsure on what to share and what not to divulge, what was truly part of the problem and what was more part of his own uncertain intuition. After all this time for consideration, things still felt as unclear and impossible to make sense of as they had when he first felt the change.

There was no single event to assign blame to, though he knew he would need to start somewhere if he was going to get anywhere at all.

"The riders in the plains have always been rather hostile," he began quietly, stating what the two elves probably already knew, "but never have they been as gruesome as they have become in recent times." Erestor looked away from the expectant faces of the two elves before him. "They have become… determined."

The explanation didn't feel quite right either, he thought frustratedly. Because in truth, it was as if something had snapped amongst the tribesmen, driving them to crimes far more organized than they had been known for in the past. It was not just them alone, he thought, for Erestor could not find it in himself place all the blame on the riders themselves. To him, it felt more like another product of the suffocating terribleness that had permeated their world and choked them with malice.

It had affected everyone in the lands, not just the wilder tribes, though it was perhaps most apparent with them. This, he tried to explain to the two elves, growing quietly frustrated when he could not find the right words to adequately convey what he intended.

"It was a sudden distrust that descended among us, and it made me anxious and irritable of all else around." Erestor, said thinking back to his own experience. "For me, it felt as if something was behind me at every turn, as if eyes followed wherever I went but when I tried to look, there was nothing there save for some imperceptible wrongness at the edge of my senses."

When it had first started, he had been unable to stay near others for long periods of time, the unease driving him to seek refuge deeper into the woods and farther away from the people he had once enjoyed being around. It was a sickening paranoia that had sunk so deep into his mind that he could not understand it. And it was only because the trees spoke of it too, whispered worriedly about the same desperate feeling, that he had eventually come to realize that he was not the only one experiencing such a thing.

"That was what I meant earlier, when I said the trees were so affected." He remembered his earlier inability to articulate himself, "It was because of the trees that I thought to seek out the Blue Wizards again," he said, watching the carefully controlled expressions upon the others faces. "I was hoping for some counsel, if not comfort, from them because who else would know how to better explain what was happening? I suppose it was only all too hopeful on my part."

A short silence fell between the three as his words sunk in. The healer looked concerned, though his face almost managed to remain calm, but the balrog slayer looked lost in troubling thought, brow creased in careful calculation.

"What did they say to you about it then?" He questioned in reference to the blue men. Erestor had described his encounter with the wizards before, in the room full of advisors, but after having some time to think things through, he had a new answer to give.

"They had told me they had felt it too, though the origin of this unease remained unknown to them as well." The dark-haired elf frowned at his own words, "But now, I do not believe they were as forthcoming as they could have been."

The blond elf looked at him intently at those words, "And what do you mean by that?"

Erestor hesitated, for truly who was he to question the words of the maiar sent by the Valar themselves? The moment passed him just as quickly though, for maiar or not, they had lied to him and for that he was angry.

"They said," he tried to keep his voice steady, "that something was indeed going on in our lands and that I should be wary. But they made no mention of dark creatures or potential threats such as the vampires we encountered."

It was true, for neither wizard, so in tuned with the land as they were supposed to be, had spared a word of warning that there were creatures of the dark roaming about.

"Perhaps they did not know of them." The balrog slayer countered.

"Perhaps," Erestor echoed, though he did not believe that to be the case. "Perhaps they did not, but they were hiding something." He remembered their hushed conversation, their rush to hide their discussions from him, and Pallando's righteously angry words when they realized he had snuck up among them. They had not known that he had peaked at what they were quarreling over, though that in itself had not helped the elf in any sense.

"They were hiding something, and yes, I know that their business was not mine as well, but it was as though they feared what I would find out." The blue wizards' fearsome faces came into clear view in Erestor's memory, and he had to fight a shudder threatening to rise.

"What were they hiding?" The healer's voice was soft, almost as if he were asking the question to himself.

"I don't know," he responded just as quietly, "I did not get close enough to figure that out." He hoped his lie was small enough to go undetected, for it was nearly true that he had not figured anything out from his quick glimpse at the tattered letters that had been folded out of view so quickly.

The healer looked at him with worried eyes, but the balrog slayer pressed on, his gaze silently serious, "These are heavy claims to make about the Istari." He spoke lowly, "Would you be ready to say this with conviction and in front of a full court?"

Erestor held the other elf's gaze, hoping that his pounding heart and frazzled nerves were not apparent upon his face. "I would not be so quick to say these things if their behavior did not worry me." He was still unsure if he had made the right decision in speaking to these elves of this, but it was far too late to take his words back. "I could be misinterpreting their actions, of course, but you had asked me for what I had to say, and there it is."

He searched for any sign of anger in the other's clear eyes, but they remained unchanging, simply watching him in that critical way that Erestor found unnerving.

"And what about here," the blond inquired suddenly, "what do you feel in these lands. Has your foreboding lessened?"

"No," His own voice felt foreign in its terseness. "It is worse here, actually." Erestor watched as the balrog slayer's nose flared and the healer's eyes sharpen to attention.

"The shadows here are hidden," he added quickly, as if his words were in rush to get out, "but they are here nonetheless, and it is as if the lands do not recognize it, and neither do its people." The words came forth without much thought, and the dark-haired elf almost felt just as shocked to hear them as the other two seemed to be.

But what he had said had been the truth, for the darkness he had felt so presently in the east, was here as well, but here it seemed, such a thing was going unnoticed and unacknowledged.

 _It is waiting,_ the sudden thought startled him, but before he could voice it, the balrog slayer spoke, "It is as I feared then," he said quietly, clasping his knees and cutting a glance to his healer friend. A moment of urgent understanding passed between them before he looked back to Erestor.

"It has been very slowly becoming more apparent to me, that something is wrong," he admitted, "but it had not been so pressing before, and I fear that the passage of so much time has only given it the upper hand."

Erestor wanted to ask what exactly _it_ was, though he felt just as reluctant to find out. He didn't get the chance though, as the blond stood up suddenly, a new light shining in his clear eyes. "The king needs to hear this," he said sternly, taking large steps towards the doors, "There is much that needs to be re-considered here."

Erestor's heart hammered wildly, mind reeling at the thought of facing the counselors again, at having them dissect his every word until it no longer felt like truth to even him. He must have looked startled, for the blond was quick to add, "Worry not, there is no harm that will come to you," he turned to raise a placating hand, "You have been more helpful than you believe and it will be taken into consideration."

It was hardly a consolation, but the elf seemed not to care. "Elrond," he called quickly to the healer who had stood as well, and spoke something quickly, purposefully switching to Sindarin so as to avoid having Erestor understand.

He left before the dark-haired elf could raise a protest and the bounding silence left in his wake made Erestor's nerves latch on to anger. "What did he say?" he demanded, turning his glare towards the healer- Elrond.

The other elf hesitated, his eyes darting from the newly closed door and back to Erestor's face. The moment stretched and the impatient elf was ready to repeat his question when the other finally spoke.

"He went to fetch the king." He said somberly, but his steady gaze did not fool the dark-haired elf. Erestor raised a brow, "Oh?"

"There are also guards at the door." The healer sighed mildly as he admitted at last, giving Erestor a pointed look.

"Of course there are." He mumbled breathily as he glanced at the door, innocently closed and hiding the hall beyond. Erestor felt his breath threaten to quicken, a shaky energy surging back into his body as the thought of another encounter with the Noldorin king.

He had not been unpleasant by any means, but the dark-haired elf could not imagine a king taking actions such as his lightly, even if it had resulted in some form of cooperation from Erestor's part.

He stared emptily at his hands, his gaze losing focus as he vaguely took in the blood and dirt caught underneath his fingernails. The room grew too warm again and it was not long before the doors opened forcefully and in strode the king. Erestor stiffened as the tall elf entered, followed closely by the balrog slayer and, thankfully, no others, though the look on the regal elf's face was far from encouraging.

"Do tell me," the king's voice rang out clearly, a tinge of anger concealed beneath his polite words as he settled his eyes on the guilty-looking elf before him, "why it is that I am disturbed at this hour with news of your imprudent actions?"

Erestor could only stare, for neither words nor shrug could lend an explanation the king would be content with. He was too caught up in the king's powerful gaze to even an accusatory glance at either healer or balrog slayer, knowing all too well he was alone in this situation, and that he only had himself to blame for such a thing.

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 **Thanks for reading! I'm excited to attempt writing Gil-Galad, though I'm also worried how it will turn out.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, my apologies for such a delay**

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He blinked and then blinked again. But the image of the frowning king did not falter and Erestor watched as fire-cast shadows danced across his face. He stood before him, stone faced with a single brow arched in waiting, his question hanging still in the air.

Another breath of silence and Erestor forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, wrestling his nerves into a look of indifference.

"Give me one good reason as to why I shouldn't have you dragged back and left in the darkest cell I can find?" The question rolled accusingly off the Noldor king's tongue.

He felt the eyes of the others in the room on him, their presence a reminder of deeply into trouble he had dug himself this time. He held his silence for a moment too long, and the tall elf raised his chin, motioning for Erestor's attention before speaking.

"I asked you a question," the elf king ordered sternly, tipping his head towards the silent observers, "worry not about them, for any business within these halls is that of all who live here." He said so in a proud voice, as if his words would encourage trust or awe in Erestor's mind.

"Now," he continued calmly, "it is only because I am told that you have shared something of value that I stand here and not my guardsmen. And given that you have already had a chance to speak before and did not mention this, you will have one chance, and one alone, to explain yourself." He king kept his gaze level with Erestor's, his smooth voice tinged slightly with annoyance.

Erestor fought the urge to fidget under the intensity of the gaze, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to reign in his nerves.

"Speak, stranger." The tall elf commanded again, "And speak frankly."

Erestor floundered, the silence clogging the words in his throat and giving him pause. There was very little reason for the king to believe a thing he said, Erestor knew. And, in fact, the chances of this encounter ending just as badly as the first, if not worse, were extraordinarily high. But, as he already knew, there was also no other way around it now, for he had already ruined his chance at escape by getting caught.

He flicked his eyes quickly from face to face, clearing his throat lightly before starting.

"All I can say is that I saw a means to escape and I took it." His words came slowly, and it surprised even himself with how steady they sounded.

The king's eyes narrowed fractionally, the slight flare of his nostrils the only sign of his annoyance. "You should have perhaps thought better of that before you did." he spoke carefully, "but do continue, for I feel that there is more your uncouth tongue wishes to divulge."

Erestor gave the king a long look, disgruntled by the blankness that he managed to maintain and uncertain for how long the painted patience would last before anger seeped from beneath. He raised his head a little more, pulling in a breath before speaking,

"I'm sure your captain has already told you," he said, resisting the urge to look at the blond himself and keeping his gaze steady on the king. "but, I have reason to believe that your troubles here stem from whatever it is that's been plaguing the east." He paused only briefly, not giving his courage the chance to flee him once again, "In fact, I do believe that the blue wizards are partial to let it flourish as well."

The words came curtly, his body rigid as he watched the king frown deeply, his stance straightening further as he regarded Erestor closely.

"That is an all too serious accusation," he said steadily, crossing his arms against his chest. "I do not tolerate such slander within my city. So tell me- what proof do you have to make me dare believe you?"

Erestor bristled at the accusatory tone, feeling his jaw clench as he struggled to formulate a response. He knew his words were not going to be taken lightly, he did not expect them to be, but the seriousness of the situation was beginning to make him feel lightheaded.

"Well," he started, pausing to clear his throat of its sudden tightness. The king's face remained unchanged and Erestor merely straightened his shoulders to better hold his gaze. "Well, I have no _proof_ to make you believe me," he said earnestly, "But I can tell you that something isn't right here, and if you care to know what it is you would at least listen."

The tall elf eyed him, staying quiet for a moment before nodding for him to continue. Erestor hesitated, acutely aware of how carefully he needed to tread. He hated explaining himself, and more than that, he hated not fully understanding what it was that he had to explain. Allatar and Pallando's secrecy and his own confusion was beginning to muddle in his mind, and the fogginess from before starting to blur the details of his last encounter with them.

"What do you know of the Istari and of their purpose here?" He asked, trying for another approach.

A look of confusion crossed the king's face before quickly dissolving back into the mask of neutrality. "They were sent as messengers and agents of the Valar's will." He stated, "And as for their true purpose, that is for them to know and for us to accept as beyond our need of comprehension."

Erestor could have rolled his eyes at the conviction behind those words, for the king's tone was strong as ever, but as convincing to his ears as any other liar's. The words were clearly rehearsed, or said frequently enough that they have lost most meaning. He tipped his head in a nod nonetheless.

"Well," he started slowly, "I was not as accepting in my encounters with them." Not at first at least, he thought. He remembered clearly the day he had first seen the blue wizards, and weeks that followed in which he gradually learned more of their journey and purpose in the east.

"I did not know nor understand who they were when I first met them, and my curiosity got the better of me. I _did_ press them for their purpose. And they did tell me."

The elf before did not show surprise, in fact he did not react at all, the king's expressions staying stone-still as Erestor took a moment to regard him.

"They were not as secretive as you may think." There had been some resistance at first, but it had not lasted long, for soon after, and with much of both himself and Eludor pestering them, Allatar and Pallando had come to consider them allies, not threats, and had promptly began to speak plainly with them.

"They said," he spoke slowly, drawing out the words in his hesitation, "that they were to look after the unity and wellbeing of the eastern lands." He recalled still the very way Pallando had phrased it all those years ago, the words feeling stilted on his tongue and wrong in translation, "they had been tasked 'the honor of seeing to the oldest stretches of Arda. To bring remembrance of peace and quell the fears of men.'"

The first time he had heard the wizard speak as such, Erestor had been sure that they were lying, or in the very least, set upon a useless path. He had even mentioned his doubt to Eludor, for what fears could be so great that the Valar felt the need to intervene? Had they not proved the last time they intervened, that their might was of such power that they harmed as much as they helped? And in such an indirect way too, for the lands of Rhûn were vast and just as different as they were expansive. How could two mannish wizards expect to cover such a region with any lasting impact.

He had been skeptical, yes, but the wizards had not been lying then, and they had lived by their truth and had made Erestor understand. It was in the little things, he had learned, that the Istari hoped to fulfill their task, and they had also come to made quick use of the elves' acquaintance for their benefit. They had given just as much as they asked from them and It had been enough to make Erestor believe them, and even begin to hope for the accomplishment of their task.

But that was then, and now all Erestor could think was that perhaps he reason all along to doubt them.

The king eyed him warily, expression unimpressed and if he looked closely, he thought perhaps he could see small cracks through which impatience leaked.

"I see." Came his only response after the moment's pause, "And how do you expect me to know that _this_ is true?" The edge in his voice made Erestor's heart speed up in his chest. He did not want to lose credibility to the only truth he had to offer.

He looked quickly to the balrog-slayer next to the king.

"You knew them too," he stated hastily, "did you ever ask the wizards of their purpose?"

The blond elf froze minutely, eyes narrowing slightly at the question. "Yes…" he drew out his response, raising a single eyebrow. The Noldor king gave his captain a look Erestor could not read, his own brow raised in inquiry, "Oh? And what did they say to you, captain?" he asked calmly.

There was a pause in which the balrog-slayer appeared to search his mind for that particular memory. If he was made uncomfortable with the attention thrust upon him, he did a great job of hiding it, and Erestor held his breath for the moment it took the blond to voice his response.

"Much the same was said," the captain fixed him with a look that almost made him turn away, "unity and well-being." He finished, recognition lighting his eyes as they narrowed perceptively in Erestor's direction.

The king hummed, returning his focus on Erestor once again. "So you tell the truth in this respect, and how is it relevant to the rest?"

Erestor pried his eyes from the blue hold of the balrog-slayer's, unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. He tried to refocus on the high king's demand, frustration rising as he tried to tamp down his fear.

"For one thing," he said sharply, "their attentions have always been on task. Their focus on the well-being of the people, it has always come first," he emphasized, "and now they are neglecting that. Instead they have fettered themselves away- turned a blind eye to the horror that has broken out and allow it to keep happening."

He didn't notice his voice had risen until the king's loud voice cut through his words,

"You will do well to mind yourself in my presence," he said sternly, "in your situation, it would serve you to keep your head."

Erestor felt himself flush, breath catching as he ducked his head at the sudden admonishment. Indignant words waited eagerly at the back of his throat, but he had enough presence of mind to keep his mouth shut, jaw clenched tightly as he reeled in his thoughts. In so little time the memories of a village razed and terror filled nights had filled his head, things he thad thought he had put away, thought he'd forced out with endless distraction and dreamless sleep.

He took a breath, and then another.

"I apologize for my bluntness." he said quielty, keeping his head low.

"The blue men," he started a bit helplessly, "they were not just passing acquaintances of mine." The memories of the last few years weighed heavy in Erestor's mind, so vivid yet distant all the same. "Since I've known them, I spent quite a lot fo time with them, and well- I would have even considered us _friends_ up until recently."

He looked up briefly, but flicked his eyes from the king's gaze, and fixed them on the darkened sky in the window beyond. He felt the other shift before him and looked back at the Noldor king.

"Alatar and Pallando were never under any obligation to share their duties with me, and yet, they did." He paused for moment as he tried to think past the flashes of the Istari in his memories.

They had often asked for his and Eludor's involvement in their tasks; a translation for a dialect unknown, or an insight into a region too foreign to the two.

"I have spent more time with the blue men in the last few years than I can remember spending with any other individuals in the last few centuries." He gave a great sigh, catching the blank look on the other's face, "I suppose you'll ask why they allowed it, and- I have no answer to give for that. But they did and that is how I came to know them, and that is how I know now that they are changed."

The king watched him for a long moment, letting the room fall to silence as he considered the words he had just spoken.

"I see." the tall elf's voice carried a slight strain that Erestor could hardly make out. He kept his silence as the other sunk into thought.

"And you are adamant," the king started, "that whatever is disturbing the east has been the cause of the trouble here as well?"

"I would hardly call it a coincidence." Erestor answered too quickly, forgetting for a moment his recent reprimand. He held back a wince, speaking on to cover his blunder, "I said before that the presence feels the same here as it did when I was last in Rhûn, so yes; I think it is the same."

He half expected the king to continue his tirade of questions, or to say something that would invalidate his previous remarks.

To his surprise, the other only sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I would agree with you in that regard- this is no coincidence." The king admitted reluctantly, his expression slipping momentarily into one of consternation. "Your words bring a new set of concerns to me, stranger, and I am burdened by what they might mean." He looked at Erestor again, bright eyes almost accusing in their regard.

"Look," he spoke in a tired voice, "I can hardly say that I believe half of what you have told me."

Erestor let a breath out through his nose, but held his tongue. Short of speaking to the Istari themselves, he was not sure how the king would dare to take his words as truth. He had so little else he was able to share with them, and if he were honest with himself, he would be equally as suspicious if their roles were reversed.

"I do think there is some truth here, though." The king faced him fully, crossing his arms back across his chest as he did. "There is something fell upon us," he said, "and I will not give it

the upper hand on us."

Erestor held his silence, staying still as the other took a long moment to regard him, those starlit eyes searching his face. The Noldor king tilted his head minutely, "What are we to do with you, stranger?"

Trying to hide his nerves, Erestor focused on keeping the king's gaze, finding it increasingly difficult to do and remember to breathe. The other sighed, furrowing his brow as he spoke,

"I remain unyielding in my decision that you are not to leave. At least not yet." He declared and Erestor lowered his head, shoulders sinking ever so slightly. "I see no wisdom in accepting your word and simply releasing you, especially considering that there is another unknown elf still at large, of whom you cleverly made no mention." He looked pointedly at him, as if he had any say in what Eludor did or did not do.

He had avoided mentioned the other elf as much as he could, but the king was no fool, and again, Erestor cursed his adoptive brother's name.

"But," the king continued lightly, "I also see no wisdom in having you bound to a cell, either. You could be of some use to us yet."

The king's words worried him, for what use could he possibly be? The elf would be mad if he thought they would use him as bait to bring Eludor in, and other than that, Erestor was certain he'd be of little use.

Before he could dwell on it further, the king continued in his smooth tone, "I also stand by conviction that Lindon holds no prisoners, I was only being cautious then. As I will continue to be." A strange look crossed the elf's face, too fast for Erestor to fully register, let alone try to decipher.

The king shared a glance with his captain and then with the dark-haired healer on his right, some unspoken agreement passing between them before he finally looked back at Erestor, gaze calculating and critical.

"I can offer you one compromise," he said suddenly, "but I will need your compliance for it to work." Erestor raised his head to better look at the king, trepidation furrowing his brow. "If I am to confine you to the castle, you will not feel so imprisoned, and I will get the assurance that you will stay put."

It took a moment for the words to register, and when they did, Erestor narrowed his eyes. Surely that was only a joke of a proposal to see how he would react, some cruel offer that would be denied as soon as he tried to accept. The Noldor, his brother had always said, were not to be trusted.

But did he have a choice?

He made no move to answer, only gazing at the king with open confusion.

"It is reasonable and it is the best I will offer, for my advisors, and myself, will accept no less." He spoke with finality and without waiting for Erestor to respond, he turned to the head healer, reminding him of her long forgotten presence.

"Lady Nestril, is he free to go?"

 _Go where?_ Erestor thought frantically, as he looked wildly between the two. The lady looked unconcerned as she nodded at the king, already busying herself with scribbling at some journal. "He is free for now, but I must change the bandages in the morning."

"Of course." The king nodded back in appreciation, turning again to look at Erestor. He had barely enough time to register the conversation before the king mentioned for him to stand.

He froze again, unsure where his cooperation would lead. He hadn't even _agreed_ to anything yet.

"Where are you taking me?" he couldn't help but ask. The Noldor king raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Do you really think you are in a position to ask that?" Erestor tried not to frown at the other's tone, but his stomach sank at the coarse words. His pulse started to quicken, a sickening feeling beginning to build up in his throat.

Seeing his hesitance, the dark-haired apprentice sent him what must have been a chance at a reassuring smile. But the would-be gesture of kindness rubbed at Erestor's frayed nerves, sending a flush of annoyance through him.

He looked away from that all too familiar face, latching on to the start of angry energy that carried him to his feet. Feeling only a touch unbalanced from having been seated for so long, Erestor was grateful he was steady enough to hold himself straight, and rolled his shoulders to loosen some of the tension. He glanced at the king with furrowed brows, uncertain what lay next.

The other elf nodded once, "Right, now follow me." he said before turning to leave, speaking not again as he strode towards the door.

Erestor hesitated once more, uncertainty clawing in his stomach and threatening to consume any boldness he had managed to scrounge up. He was not a brave elf, not by any accounts, he didn't believe he ever was one, as running away from dangers was often how he dealt with them. He better preferred to evade a threat rather than confront it, but there was not a single door, window or tree he could use here to get away.

He watched the king's back as he moved away, and he would have stayed frozen in place if it wasn't for the nudge at his boot that came from the blond warrior. He hadn't sensed him get so close, and he fought to suppress the fright that it caused him.

The blond did not speak, merely gesturing with his head to follow the king.

Reluctantly, Erestor did as they bid him, frowning as he slowly picked his way towards the door, acutely aware of the other two following on each side. He tried to ignore the eyes he felt on his back as, hating the way it made the skin on his neck prickle.

At the door, he was made to pause as the balrog-slayer waited for the king to finish speaking with the guards. He missed whatever it was, but it was probably not meant for his ears anyways, and it would have probably made no sense if he'd heard it.

He kept a look of concerned confusion set lightly on his face as he waited for further direction, attempting not to notice the guards as they spared him a look before stepping aside. And as soon as he was made to move forward, Erestor found himself swept up and crowded between five elves, swiftly being herded down the hall.

Claustrophobia clawed at his chest and threatened to grow as he focused on keeping his gaze straight, and breaths even, not once daring to look at the elves who surrounded him. They spoke a few words above his head, adding to the effect of them being too close to him, of him having no power to get away.

Flanked on all sides by beings both bigger, and more ready to fight brought unwelcome memories of the past age. It had been a long time since he had been in such a place, and then he had sworn would be the last time it happened. But it seemed he was breaking all sorts of promises lately.

Rounding the corner, he tried to refocus his mind, distracting himself by logging every detail of the path they took- _left at the door, 127 steps before turning right, 83 steps_ -

He was pulled to a stop by a hand knotted at the back of his shirt, taking delayed note that the king now waited patiently at a plain wooden door. It was inconspicuous, almost seeming to blend into the rest of the hall in the dim torch light.

Erestor watched as the king swung it open easily and stepped into the room, waving a quick hand for them to follow.

Begrudgingly, Erestor let the guards usher him through the doorway, finding himself in a small room that looked to have once been someone's quarters. It was quaint and bare, undecorated save for a small bed and an even smaller night stand in the middle of the room.

It was lit well enough, candles casting it in a warm glow from the night stand and the sill above the unlit fireplace. The pit in question was small as well, lacking any logs or tools one would normally find for such a thing. Either it had not been used in a very long time, or it had been purposefully cleared so.

Erestor stood quietly the king seemed to inspect the room, a creeping suspicion that this was planned was beginning to grow in his mind as he watched the other elf trace a finger along the window's edge.

He must have found it to his satisfaction, as he soon turned back to face him, motioning toward the single-pane window.

"It is nailed shut, and will not open." He stated clearly, "Even if you could manage to pry it up, we are rather high, and there are no loose holds that you can use to scale down. You will not be leaving this room."

He walked over to a small door to the side that Erestor had somehow missed, knocking on it once before opening it for him to see.

"This is a bathing chamber," he said, "there are no windows or other doors in here either." He closed the door again, walking around him and towards the entrance they had come from. "The only way in or out of this room is through here, and my guards will be outside the whole night."

The expectation that he stay put remained unspoken, and Erestor understood the that he had traded one cell for another, albeit nicer one.

"You had expected this?" he asked quietly, already knowing the answer. The king shifted his weight, motioning to the tidy room with a smooth flick of his wrist.

"It was never my intention to keep you in holding for long," he gave him a pointed look, "and had you been more patient, things could have worked out more smoothly."

Erestor tried not to react, but he felt an indignant flare of frustration rush through him. The tall elf turned to leave, stopping before he exited to send one last glance at the elf now stood still in the room.

"Let us settle this for tonight and pick up in the morning." He motioned for his guards to stand at position on both sides of the door, "I am trusting that my hospitality and the room's accommodation will be enough for you to comply for the night."

The slight raise of the king's eyebrow invited him to argue, but Erestor merely nodded, knowing he had no room to object.

Seemingly satisfied, the elf gave one last word to his guards before exiting the room, leaving behind only the balrog-slayer and dark-haired healer inside.

Erestor observed them quietly, curious about their presence but too tired to voice his concern.

The healer took the chance to smile once again, a tight but genuine thing that made Erestor clench his jaw.

"There is a bath in the room there," he said in a calm tone, " and I'll have someone bring up a set of clothes for you, as well as some towels."

His voice was smooth and full of kindness, and Erestor hated him for it.

"No, that's fine." He responded quickly, in a not so grateful tone. He did not want their continued presence, he did not _need_ them to bring him anything.

"Really?" The other elf looked genuinely confused, "It won't be long, you have blood on your fac-"

"I said it was fine." Erestor ground out, feeling more annoyed by the second, anger and embarrassment finally catching up with him, mixing cruelly with exhaustion.

"There are leaves in your hair." The balrog-slayer cut in bluntly, "And you look an awful state. Now just take the hospitality and stop being so stubborn."

Erestor clicked his mouth shut and glared in silence, unsure how to even respond and certain that the warrior neither expected nor wanted one.

The golden elf straightened up, crossing his arms in a casual display before looking him in the eyes. "Remember, there are guards right out here and if you even try to step foot out of this room, they have permission to use force to keep you here."

As if he could forget. Erestor huffed, "I am aware."

The warrior tilted his head to the side, "We will bring you to the healing room first thing in the morning to have that changed," he pointed at the bandages upon his arm, "And after that you will hear the full extent of this… compromise- and so it is best if you present yourself in a better light than you recently have."

Unsure if he should be offended, and too tired to feel anything but irritation, Erestor offered him a biting smile, all teeth and no mirth, "Can't wait."

The warrior barely hid a look of annoyance as he turned to leave.

"Come along, Elrond." He motioned to his friend to follow. He cast one last curious glance his way, searching his face for a moment before speaking, "come tomorrow, we will not fail to see the truth."

Erestor felt himself freeze at those words, all pretense of indifference and bravado fleeing him as he narrowed his eyes and the blond tilted his head. Pallando's voice uttering those very words rang in his ears, but before Erestor could find his tongue to speak, the warrior promptly shut the door leaving him alone and reeling.

Frustration flared once more, before leaving him just as quickly. The nerve of the other elf to rile him up like that and just leave. He felt suddenly drained, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed and looking towards the little window.

The room had a wonderful view of the opposite wall, and beyond that, the sky was dark and clouded, not a single star in sight.


	9. Chapter 9

Ereinion sighed as he watched the dregs of his drink swirl lazily in its cup. He allowed his mind to lose itself in it for just a moment before a quiet cough gained his attention.

He looked up and met his advisor's gaze, quirking his brow minutely as the other spoke.

"My king, are you _certain_ that this is the best course of action?" There came the blasted question they had been beating into oblivion for the last few hours. Ererinion sighed again, setting the useless cup on the table next to him.

"Yes, Dinenor," he spoke tiredly, "For the last time, yes. This is for the best." He tried not to sound as exasperated as he felt, but his advisor, ever so critical, caught the edge of his tone.

"Are you certain of that, my lord?" the contentious elf persisted, contrary to the silent virtue of his name.

Gil-Galad, leveled a look at the elf, "Is this not what we were planning to with him before?"

The advisor still looked unmoved, "Yes, but as I mentioned already, that was before he managed to escape and nearly leave the city right under our noses."

Gil-Galad took a steadying breath, he had already settled this with his other his advisors, and while he had been met with resistance from most, they had been easier to settle than his most senior councilman. Alone, after the others had been dismissed, the elf had contented himself with assaulting the king with question after question, once even asking the same thing twice.

He tried his most encouraging look- oh how he wished he had not dismissed Elrond when he had, for the other elf always knew how to calm his particularly stubborn advisor-

"I understand that," he said, hoping to console the other's worries, "And I appreciate your caution, I truly do, but I think we have done all we can in regards to the strange elf in our midst, at the very least for the time being."

There were greater things that needed to be done, like the arranging of guard shifts and making certain that the citizens of Lindon were aware of the danger that lurked in its' outskirts. He also had to devise a way to at least try to contact the wizards in the east for some clarification, and that task alone demanded more concentration and prowess of mind than he currently had the energy for.

Yes, this single elf who was now well under control, should be the least of their worries, for if he behaved, then all was well, and if he did not, then there would be little leniency left to offer him.

Gil-Galad held back a sigh at the long mental list of tasks he needed to complete before the day's end, looking at his advisor with a lessening sense of patience.

"He will not be going anywhere," he reassured sternly, "and as long as we do not give him reason to otherwise, he will be compliant with us."

Dinenor looked far from convinced, "And how are you so certain of that?"

Gil-Galad tipped his head slightly as he leaned back in his chair, "I'm sure that our constant supervision and tight guard shift will deter any attempts at disruption on his behalf." He spoke plainly, "Besides, I don't get the impression that he wants to be here anymore than we want him to be." That in and of itself would be reason enough for anyone, at least those who plead innocence from ulterior motives, to do what they can to comply.

Dinenor sighed, agitation scrawled clearly on his face.

"We have nothing else to work with right now," Gil-Galad started, "and we can't afford to lose the only advantage we may have with this elf."

His advisor watched him for a moment, intelligent eyes shinning as he perceived the king's meaning. "So you intend to use him as bait? To lure that other elf into our custody?"

Ereinion gave a slow nod, "If it comes down to it, yes." He sincerely hoped it did not.

He said no more, and Dinenor merely narrowed his eyes for a moment, contemplating his words before finally giving a nod of acquiescence.

"I understand," he agreed slowly, "I don't like it, but you are right."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than eyes took on a familiar gleam, face tightening in an attempt at controlling his expression. "Though I still think we should use more direct methods to- extract information- so to say."

Gil-Galad was really going to need another glass of wine if Dinenor was going to start _this_ up again.

"Like I said before," he wanted to end the conversation before it could start, "we will keep close watch on him but we will have no further interrogations until we have something else to confront him with."

Dinenor, as always, paid no heed to the warning in the king's voice. "And like _I_ said, if you want your stranger to speak his secrets sooner rather than later, there are those methods once outline by the Numenorians-"

"We are not subjecting anyone to psychological torture." This was something that Gil-Galad had always opposed, on the few occasions it had been brought up before, and one which he did not quite understand his advisor's fascination with.

"It's no such-"

"No," the king cut the protest off shortly, "we are not doing that. If there is something else to be learned, if he has been untruthful with us, then he will reveal it himself. We do not want to have him mislead or misdirect us because he feels the need to say just anything."

Dinenor just barely held back a huff, face still cast in suspicion even as he nodded his agreement. "Of course."

There was a moment's pause, and it was only pensive silence and subtle shift of his advisor's footing that let Gil-Galad understand there was still more.

"What is it now?" he sighed, eyeing the advisor as he squared his shoulders.

Ereinion raised an eyebrow, for the silence and the keen glint in the other's eyes did little to reassure him. He narrowed his own eyes, contemplating the advisor, "Well, What is it? And please don't tell me more monsters have emerged from our woods."

Dinenor did not laugh, but the corner of his mouth twitched somewhat upwards. "No, not monsters, my lord, but you should know that lord Celeborn and the lady Galadriel will be coming to us in a few weeks time. Their message arrived earlier today."

 _Not monsters, but trouble nonetheless_ , thought Gil-Galad, a weary smile creeping onto his face.

"That is not the worst news I've received all week," he said tiredly, "Though previous experience tells me that their visits usually involve some critical motives."

Dinenor nodded, "Nay, their visits don't usually bode well for us." He took a breath, "They wouldn't specify why they are coming, but I have a suspicion it involves Eregion."

 _Of course it did_ , he thought, and though the news did not surprise Gil-Galad, it did stir a wisp of worry in his heart. He had felt ill at ease for some time now whenever he thought of that fair city, and with all that had happened lately, he had put his woes for it on the bottom of his list of things to worry about for now.

"Celebrimbor?" He asked before he could stop himself, though he felt he already knew the answer to his inquiry.

Dinenor shook his head, "In the last message he sent, he noted he was increasingly busy attending to some thing or the other. He will not be joining us."

Gil-Galad should not have been dismayed, for he had not seen Celebrimbor in quite a while, and he had not expected to see him anytime soon. He made a note to try and reach his cousin soon, to extend a chance for communication, and perhaps some reconciliation for the uneasy terms they had parted on.

He glanced back at his advisor's face, catching quickly the unsatisfied look, mouth set in a try at patience.

"Yes?" he asked begrudgingly.

"I think it is a good thing that the lord and lady have chosen now to grace us with their visit." The advisor would never have admitted that under normal circumstances, but now was certainly no normal circumstance.

Ereinion raised a brow, "And why is that?"

"Because I think," Dinenor started lightly, "that perhaps Lady Galadriel's judgement on our unusual guest could reduce a lot of this clutter that has come with him."

Gil-Galad knew where his advisor was going, but he motioned for the other to continue, to hear the words directly from his mouth.

"It would benefit us greatly to have some insight into the circumstances that brought him here," he spoke clearly, "To determine the degree of his honesty and also be rid of him if his truth holds out and he is of no consequence."

It sounded simple, to have the lady look into the other's mind and touch upon his memories to see if he really was of no harm. It would be incredible to also know what circumstances truly drove him here, but he knew it was never that simple.

But it was not as like asking one to read a note or even interpret an image. For Galadriel to read the other elf's thoughts and intentions successfully, it would require compliance and trust from both parties, and the lady would not encroach on another's mind without their permission, and somehow he doubted that the wary eyed stranger would allow for such a thing.

"Personally," he started, "I am hoping this matter will be resolved sooner than it would take for the lady to get here, but even so, it may be something nearer to a last resort even at that point."

The advisor tried not to look disappointed, though the prospect of being rid of nuisance elf so soon seemed to lessen his dejection.

"It is just something to keep in mind," he added, casting a look at the door, "in case we don't get anywhere with kindness and accommodation."

Gil-Galad heard the approaching footsteps his advisor must picked up first, and he threw another look at Dinenor, noting the other elf's stiffened posture and carefully drawn expression. He offered his old friend a small smile, much to the other's discontent.

"You will be staying to see that our guest is well accommodated?" He asked in the pretense of a joke, hoping to lighten his advisor's mood.

Earlier, he had decided it would be best to not further intimidate the strange elf by having all his council present. Seeing how last time had gotten them absolutely nowhere and hoping that this show of consideration would help prevent the elf from becoming paranoid, Ereinion had asked all others to take their leave before addressing him once more.

Secretly, he had also thought it wise that the stranger did not get the chance to learn all of his councils' faces, better to keep a level of anonymity from the elf. It would be easier to keep an eye on him when he did not know who held what position in his court.

Dinenor nodded at his question, solemn face set with a stern frown. "I wish to see for myself that he understands the rules of this compromise."

Gil-Galad nodded as well, grateful for the advisor's persistence, if not for his tendency towards pigheadedness.

"Right then," he said just as a knock sounded at the door. "Please come in."

He felt more than saw the glare the advisor cast towards the opening doors, but he paid it no mind as the subject of their discussion was ushered into the room by the neutral looking guards.

The other elf looked markedly better than he had the night before, all traces of dirt and filth washed away and his hair arranged neatly in a single braid.

"Hello again, Erestor." Ereinion addressed the elf formally, giving a small nod of his head. "I hope you had yourself a restful night."

The other elf stopped his survey of the room and stared at him for a moment, a look of quiet consideration flashing across his face as he flicked his gaze toward Dinenor. "Yes, your lodging was more than sufficient."

Gil-Galad felt his old advisor bristle at the dry words and he quickly carried on, hoping to avoid the tongue-lashing he knew was already building up inside the older elf.

"I am glad," he said cordially, "And, I know you are probably curious as to how this arrangement will work, so let us get on with it."

Ereinion looked purposefully into the other elf's face as he spoke, "You are here under precarious circumstances, and while we have considered your words and explanations, and find that, for the most part, you appear to tell the truth, we cannot over rule the fact that you yet withhold information that could lead us to the one that _those_ know what is happening."

He saw the flash in the other elf's strangely dark eyes, the small furrow of discontent in his brow at the mention of his missing brother.

"Your reluctance is telling in that there is more you have yet to reveal." He carried on, only taking a moment to observe the dark elf's response. "You will remain here until your companion either brings himself into our court so that we may speak to him, or until you decide to help us in getting him to come in."

The elf looked like he wanted to protest, but he kept his jaw set firmly as he listened to Gil-Galad's terms. "This all has already been outlined to all my advisors and guardsmen alike. Everyone within these walls are privy to this situation and the details I'm about to share with you."

The other elf- Erestor, he had to remind himself- looked increasingly concerned at what he was to say, his attempted neutrality slipping as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"You will not leave this main building," Gil-Galad started, "and though you will not be restricted to a single room, you will not be allowed alone in any of the rooms on the first, second and third floors."

Erestor's try at level-headedness evaporated completely at those words, eyes widening in surprise, "First, second _and_ third?" He asked loudly.

The king raised an eyebrow at the outburst, "You are right," he sighed, "Include the fourth floor as well. Captain Glorfindel did mention that you were skilled in climbing." The elf gave him a wild look, surprise clear on his features.

"And you will maintain a 5 foot distance from any windows in the halls or common rooms you enter." This was perhaps over the top, but his advisors had been adamant that the elf's access to potential escape routes be as restricted as possible.

Erestor gaped a little, his control slipping as incredulity set it, "What? That is-"

"Is that understood?" Gil-Galad interrupted, bleeding authority into each word, "I am counting on your civility to make this arrangement work. If not, then the cells are perfectly available."

Erestor snapped his jaw shut at that, staring in disbelief at the keen eyed king. He looked around a bit helplessly, as if he could find something in the room that would get him out of agreeing to the terms so clearly drawn for him.

It was with a great hesitation that he finally nodded, looking the king in the eyes as he accepted the compromise he had little say in.

"We are not asking for anything impossible." Dinenor added from his side, "and I'm sure even you can understand that these are generous terms and possibly better than you deserve."

The advisor's critical words caught the strange elf's attention, and Gil-Galad made careful note of how his shoulders rose and how his eyes seemed to darken with each word.

"There is no obligation for our king to be so forgiving of your indiscretions," the advisor reminded the other elf, "and it is against my advice that he allows this, as outnumbered as I am, so you would do exceptionally well to oblige by each and every rule that has been outlined for you."

The elf said nothing, locked in a tense stare down with Dinenor, as Gil-Galad watched them both. His advisor glared impressively, with his stern look that usually meant someone or multiple someones were in trouble, but the other elf did not wither under it, holding it steadily with his own look of disdain.

It was a brief moment that lasted an age, but finally, the old advisor spoke again.

"Well, do you have something to say or do you wish to waste more of our time?"

Gil-Galad, who was more than used to his advisor's terse authority, was not at all prepared for the dry, unexpected response those words earned him.

"I have met dwarves less aggravating than you."

He had to bite his lip to keep a surprised laugh from bursting out, quickly clenching his jaw and holding his breath until the moment passed. Dinenor gaped, brows already furrowing in anger and neck reddening at the other elf's words. He whirled to face the king, nose flaring with indignation.

"Ereinion, the cells." The request was clear and dripping with agitation, and again, Gil-Galad had to steady his breath before answering.

"Peace, Dinenor," he held a placating hand up, "we cannot go back on our word. But you," he pointed his attention back to Erestor, who had managed to light his advisor's fuze faster than anyone he has ever known, "You need to watch yourself. It would do no good to make more enemies here."

The elf looked away with a small huff, but gave a nod nonetheless.

"Good," he let some of his remaining laughter seep into the smile he gave the other, "I am glad that this has been settled for now."

Erestor looked back at him, Dinenor grumbled something undiplomatic under his breath, and Gil-Galad raised an eyebrow at the inquisitive stare from the dark-eyed stranger.

"Well, what am I supposed to do now?" He asked eventually, expression drawn in confusion, "How long do you even plan on keeping me here? This is all fine and well for now but this can't be forever."

Gil-Galad had not put much thought into _what_ the elf would be doing, as long as he was kept at bay, but he also knew did not plan on keeping him hostage for longer than necessary. He raised a shoulder minutely in a small shrug, almost certain that his answer would be unheeded, "Take a walk through the main hall, some of the art that adorn the walls is quite exceptional."

He tilted his head at the the dour look on the other's face, "So long as it is nothing disruptive, I will leave it up to you to decide what you will do, unless of course you want to share with us ideas on how to convince your brother to bring himself in."

That earned him an angry scowl, but the other wisely held his tongue, looking briefly between the doors he had entered from and the two guards that blocked his exit.

"I can leave?" He asked slowly, brow furrowed in trepidation, "If this is some trick…"

It was Dinenor again who answered for him, in a gruff and offended voice, "We do not trick here, rhovan. We have higher standards than that."

Erestor narrowed his eyes, well aware that he was being insulted, and Gil-Galad decided to intervene before a real fight could truly break out.

"No, I can assure you, this is no trick," he offered, "as long as you do not overstep the rules, you have freedom to spend your time as you see fit."

The other still looked unsure, hesitating again as he glanced back towards the door. Gil-Galad sighed, "Perhaps if you want to learn anything more about us and this side of the world you could seek out the library."

It was a feeble suggestion, and the other's reaction was almost easy to miss, but Ereinion caught the small but strange look that flashed across the other's face, an undecipherable expression that was gone just as quickly as it came. Dinenor must have seen it too, interpreting it in his own way.

"Oh, what was that? Is it because you can't read? Don't worry, It is not uncommon for your people to not learn this skill, but it is not a hard one to obtain." The bitter jab was almost unfair, but who was Gil-Galad to intervene.

"I'm more than certain that our lore-master librarian can help with that. He is quite generous."

The insincerity in his advisor's voice was not missed by anyone, and for a moment he thought that Erestor would retaliate, but the other elf merely clenched his hands and let out a small, angry growl.

"Fine," he said in a tight voice, "I'll be sure to tell him that _you_ sent me." And with that he turned and crossed quietly towards the door, not bothering to look at king, advisor, nor guard as he slipped out the door.

The two astounded guards shared a brief look between themselves before following diligently behind, leaving Gil-Galad alone once again with his advisor.

"My word," he breathed out, hoping the lingering mirth could not be heard in his voice, "that could not have gone better." He thought perhaps it could have, but now he would never know.

Dinenor gave him a withering look, "what child of Morgoth have you brought among us, Ereinion."

It was no question that needed an answer, and Gil-Galad gave his head a small shake.

"I'll agree that the dwarf statement was out of line, but did you really have to send him off to his doom?" He almost felt bad for the other elf, implored to seek out the dragon's den. "Pengolodh is going to eat him alive."

Dinenor, who had by now, regained some of his composure, looked at him cooly. "I think it will be well warranted." He smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from his robes, "Now, if you excuse me my king, there are some things that need to be arranged."

Gil-Galad could only give a small, nervous laugh as his advisor left, head held high despite his wounded dignity.

He should have perhaps known better than to let his oldest advisor set the precedent for what the strange elf should expect from them, but they had to work now with what they had, and he was at least comforted by the fact that the most pressing of this matter had been settled for now.

 _For now_ , Ereinion knew that it would only be a matter of time before trouble with the other elf and the dark things he brought to them would arise again.

From the way the last exchange had gone, he knew there would be no lack of elves their strange guest would manage to infuriate in the days to come, and he only hoped to the Valar that they managed to sort out the real monsters in their woods soon enough to be rid of the toothless monster in their halls.

Just because he claimed to not want to cause trouble, did not mean he inadvertantly wouldn't.

There was a quiet, but sturdy knock on his door, just as Gil-Galad expected. He cast a quick, longing glance at his empty wine glass before bidding the other to enter.

"Captain Glorfindel," he greeted the blond, "just the elf I wanted to see."

When he had entered with a polite greeting, the king motioned him towards the empty seat next to him.

"Please come in, I have a very important task for you."

* * *

 **Just some small notes:**

 **Dinenor - meaning silent one (technically _silent male_ )**

 **rhovan- means "wild beast or wilderness." Dinenor means to refer to Erestor's wild attitude and monstrous disrespect.**


End file.
